Tell Them
by Kaleidoscope Of Tales
Summary: Tell them I hate them. I hate them for hating me and loving my brother, the BWL. Tell them I don't regret it. Running away and becoming Harry Slithirin. Tell them I know, I know I'm going to die soon. And tell them they were wrong. Wrong about their BWL. And tell them that I'm sorry. R&R. PREVIOUSLY HARRY'S LIES
1. Before

_**~Tell Them- Before~**_

Two boys say in the cot that night. Alius Remus Potter, and his brother, Harry James Potter. Both were named for their parents' friends. Alius, for Albus Dumbledore and Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin. Harry for his mother's childhood friend, and his father.

Alius was the expected 'smart' one. He, at one year of age, was able to say 'Moo-ma'. Harry resented this. There was something in Harry that understood his parents and brother. His parents thought that just because Harry had nothing to say meant he was slow, and that as his brother could mimic a cow, Alius was bright. He kind of doubted this logic.

Harry was very intelligent for a baby. He didn't talk because he accepted things for what they were, and he didn't cry because his brother did. So this made him different. But his parents still loved him.

In fact, the last words his mother, Lily, had said to the twins were "Stay safe, my child_ren_."

That night, Godric's Hallow was empty, excluding Charlus and Dorea Potter- the two's grandparents. Charlus had held Harry, talking in a low voice, while Dorea cooed at the giggling Alius.

"I'm not senile, Harry," muttered Charlus Potter, smiling slightly at the curious child. "Your parents both believe Alius is the child of the prophecy. That he's powerful and smart. I don't. I won't deny the kid's smart, but you're clever, kid. And powerful? I could feel _your_ magical core when I reached the gate, Harry. Couldn't feel Al's till I was beside the cot. Normal, I s'pose, for a baby. Even dear Alice's boy has the aura of a squib. But Dumbeldore thinks it's Al, and I'm none the wiser. But even the greatest wizards can make mistakes, kid."

Harry gave a near-toothless grin at his grandfather, and Charlus Potter had a feeling the baby had listened and hung to every word he'd spoken. He was probably right.

"Charlie?" Came Doria's shaking voice. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That creaking noise, Charlie! I swear it sounded like that old gate!"

Charlus sighed. "It's probably Black, or Lupin. Or that no-good Pettigrew. You can even sound the 'petty' in it."

"Charlie!"

"Sorry, Dorey. But that boy's as brave as a spineless rat."

Dorea smiled a little, and Alius gave a sharp tug at her greying hair. She cringed, and gently pulled his little fist away. "Now, now, Alius. That isn't very nice, now, is it?"

Alius gave out a large wail.

Dorea exhaled, slightly irked, but she let the child grab at her hair.

Charlus tut-tutted. "That boy's a beast." But he had an amused expression on his face as he said it. "Just like his father."

But instead of laughing, Dorea gasped again. "I'd give an unbreakable vow on it this time, Charlie! I swear I heard the front door open!"

Charlus flinched, knowing the severity of the unbreakable vow, and stood. He placed Harry into the crib, and Dorea did likewise with Al. "Alright, dear, I'll check it out. You stay with the boys."

His eyes flashed back to Harry when he heard the faintest sound. A small sob. The boy was crying. Harry had _never_ cried, from the moment of his birth until now, the Charlus hadn't heard of the boy ever releasing a single tear.

"S'okay, kid," he said unsurely.

"No, I don't think it is," came a low voice. "Not when you're dead- **_Avada Kedavra_**!"

Alius let out another cry as Charlus Potter fell back, lifeless.

Harry just stared, silent now. The tears stopped.

The man with the snake-like red eyes stared back. He smirked. "Ah, Harry _Potter_. Known for your Killing-Curse green eyes," he eerily pushed some of Harry mop of jet black hair away from the boy's eyes. Dorea cried out.

The man hissed, serpent-like. He stumbled back in surprise.

"_Those_ eyes..."

As_ those_ eyes stared up at him in vague interest, the Dark lord came to a near-remorseful conclusion. (Something he rarely did.)

"You must die, child." He said, almost softly. Something flashed in his eyes. A boy, eleven years of age, raven black hair and snake green eyes, different from those around him._ Misunderstood._ "It's one heir, or another."

He rose his wand, yelling the cursed words. Dorea began caterwauling, and she flung herself in front of the green curse. Harry released a shrill sound, not unlike a scream.

When the light died down, Voldemort looked down at the dead body in front of the cot. He looked back up at Harry, and the boy smiled sadly at him. The most odd smile from a baby. Almost as if Harry knew something the Dark Lord did not.

"**_Avada Kedavara!_**" He yelled, for the third time that night. The spell hurled itself towards the baby's forhead... and bounced off it. The baby kept on grinning, as the curse zapped back, and, in turn, hit the Dark Lord.

He screamed, a throaty, angry sound that made Alius bawl even louder. The child laughed, as the dark lord was dissolved in an orb of green light.

And vanished with a hiss.

Harry was beaming. Touching his forehead with a little finger, he felt the lightning shaped scar.

No. He didn't like that. It felt... odd. Evil. He didn't like it at all.

He offered it to his brother, but the other boy said no. Harry frowned. What could he do with the scar? Nothing. It was no map of the London underground, and Harry decided it was gaudy and not at all nice. And so he rubbed at it, irritated. It slowly began to disappear, like he was washing off a stain. Harry, satisfied, uncaring of where and on whom the scar ended up, lay back down and fell to sleep.

* * *

Alice was a terribly nice person, and she and Lily had been friends since Hogwarts. Lily had always had a place in heart for the sweet Gryffindor girl.

And now she was staring at that woman's body. She had been only twenty-one, Lily thought weakly. The same could be said for Frank Longbottom, Alice's beloved husband. Now the loving couple lay, side by side, strewn across the carpet. There was no blood. The Cruciatus curse didn't leave traces.

Bellatrix Black had gone mad years before this. But even she should have known that holding the Torture curse for over half an hour or so ended disastrously. Performing it for longer could kill.

Unlike the Killing curse victims, long-term Cruiciatus curse victims die in pain.

Alice was too good a person to have deserved this, and Lily held back a sob.

_"Alli?"_

_"Yeah, Lils?"_

_"If... If You-Know-Who comes after us, you know, 'cos we're not pureblood..."_

_"Y-yeah?"_

_"How would you prefer it to end?"_

_"A simple Killing curse. No pain. It's fast. I might not even know it's coming!"_

_"What about... what about Frank?"_

_"Frank would fight. But he'd lose. He's a great dueller, but He-who-must-not-be-named is a murderer. And I'd rather die fast, unaware, and happy, then live slow, aware and sad."_

A tear ran down her face, leaving a translucent blue line. She didn't have the vanity to wipe it away.

She felt an arm around her.

"It'll be okay, Lils." Said her husband, James. "Their kid survived. They saved their kid, Lils. Sent him away to his Gran's for the last month, under Dumbledore's warning. They knew he was coming."

"B-b-but Alice didn't want to know!" Lily cried. _I'd rather die, fast, unaware, and happy._

By the time they'd reached an apparition zone, the first screams had already gone off in Godric's Hallow.

* * *

Appearing before their hidden house, Lily noted that the gate was open. They never left the gate open.

"The front door's wide open," James said, slight worry in his tone. This only added to the paranoia.

"It's _nothing,_" Lily said with equal anxiety, her voice betraying that she felt the opposite. _I hope._

* * *

In the end, nothing was Dark Magick seeping out from the house. Nothing was two dead grandparents, horror captured in their still expressions. Nothing was a smiling baby, sleeping happily- while his brother poked the tingling pink lightning scar on his forehead. Nothing was the Boy-Who-Lived, Alius Potter.

No one thought to check. No one noticed the lightning had no darkness within. No one noticed that dark magick protruded from _Harry's_ forehead.

And that was the biggest Nothing of them all.

* * *

_(And so 'Stay Safe My Children' became 'Stay Safe My Child')._

* * *

**Eight years later. Age: 9.**

Harry was sitting up in his room, completing a letter. Surrounding him were heaps of books. He had long since devoured all the 'Light' reads in the Potter manor, and so had moved onto the less than legal ones. Of course, his parents needn't know so.

Downstairs his parents were literally drooling over his brother, Alius. Harry thought Alius a buffoon. Perhaps even more idiotic. The sounds Al was making as he complained about his 'Milk being too wet' were astonishingly loud, but Harry had learned to place a No-Sound charm on his ears. There was nothing his brother could say that he'd want to hear. He frequently forgot to remove it, but what did it matter when no one spoke to him nowadays?

He knew not to care. But that didn't mean he didn't.

Everyone was forever telling that his parents loved him, because they were always forgetting to tell him themselves. Sometimes Harry thought that they _didn't_ forget- that they didn't love him anymore. But for his own sake, he discarded the thought.

The truth was that Harry loved his parents dearly. He loved them more than his brother, or old Dumbledore, and most definitely more than his aunt Petunia. But one of his deepest fears was that they didn't feel the same way about him. Sighing, he looked out the window to see a man with a long greying beard and a peaked blue cap and robe in the driveway. Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard in England.

Harry hated him.

That man was the one who had let the Dark Lord know of the prophecy, that man was the reason his grandparents died, that man was the reason his parents loved Alius more than him.

Wordlessly, Harry removed the No-Sound charm. How impressed would his mum and dad be- to see him doing wordless _and_ wandless magic. If they weren't so caught up in being the Boy-Who-Lived's parents. They were so obssessed, they would probably think it was under Al's influence.

He slowly slinked downstairs. He rarely let his presence be known when near Dumbledore- he hadn't done so for years, now. Not that the dullard noticed. The only Potter child on his mind was the 'Chosen One'.

Harry knew that his brother was a 'Chosen One'. But in a different way to Dumbledore.

Alius had been chosen over him by their parents. Alius had been chosen over him by Dumbledore. Alius had been chosen over him by the public.

But Alius had not been chosen over Harry by Voldemort. No. And that's where they all were wrong.

Harry didn't bother telling them so. He let them draw their own conclusions. Let them be wrong. Let the wizarding world suffer for their mistake. Harry didn't care.

Except... he did. If they had chosen correctly, his parents would love him. The public would love him. He wouldn't be overlooked. Why couldn't Alius be the one stuck in the shadows?

He didn't understand. He and Al were twins. Though one had red hair, the other black, and one with brown eyes, and the other green, he saw no immediate differences. So why Al?

Let them have their 'Hero' thought Harry, angrily. When the Dark Lord does return, let's see the Boy-Who-Lived _die_.

* * *

"Yes, Lily. Alius will be receiving his Hogwarts letter in two months' time." Dumbledore confirmed. "Two years early... and of course you know that he won't be attending for two years, but just for sentimental value..." _And in case Voldemort returns earlier than I expected,_ he thought sadly. The least he could do was supply the boy with the happiness all children got when receiving their letters.

Lily squealed, pinching her little boy's cheek. "Oh, Al! You must be so excited."

Alius grunted, embarrassed. "Stop it, Mum. And, yeah."

"I'm so proud! My little hero is going to Hogwarts!" Lily beamed, as if he was going that very year.

A snort sounded from the staircase. "Oh yes, because only one of your children is going to Hogwarts," someone droned, sarcastically.

Dumbledore looked up, confused. He was shocked at who he saw descending the stairs.

"_Tom_?" He felt his eyes widen in horror. But that was impossible, he reminded himself. Impossible. But his eyes widened, none the less.

"Hm, usually I go by Harry. Or, Alius's-less-important-brother." He said, wryly.

Dumbledore blinked. Of course. Tom was gone... for now. "Harry Potter?" Dumbledore asked. He hadn't heard of the boy, or seen of him, in years.

Something flashed in the boy's eyes. Hatred? No. It couldn't be. "Yes, that would be true."

"Ah, I was just talking to your brother." The older man said, watching closely.

Oh. There it was again. A flash in Harry's Killing-Curse eyes. _Hate._ "My bother? Ah, yes, I understand. I'll leave you to your Boy-Who-Lived-To-Die conversing now."

"_Harry!_" Lily snapped, astounded at her other son's rudeness.

"Yes, mother?" The raven haired boy said, half-way out the door.

Lily opened her mouth, befuddled. _Mother_? How strange and eccentric. Not at all familiar. Something in her heart ached. Before she could get herself straight, Harry had left.

* * *

The grounds around Potter Manor were fascinating. Harry had identified over two-hundred magical plants growing wild. Some were even poisonous! He'd picked a few, sometimes, testing them out in various potions. Some had exploded in his face, others had been more interesting. (On a completely unrelated note, just last month Alius had swallowed a poison that transformed him into a frog for three days. How Harry laughed...)

He sat on an old tree stump, in front of the small lake. He watched as the young Whitsnappers flew about the pond. His friend, Luna, nicknamed the Lunatic, had warned him of them. They, without careful use of the See-Me charm, looked like ordinary flies. With a closer glance, you could see a glimmer. A shine. The See-Me charm magnified them, showing the vibrant, golden specks across their backs. Whitsnappers were very powerful creatures, and, like nargles, they could get inside your head and fuzz up your mind. Except, they were much stronger than nargles. They did as the name somewhat told, they snapped your wit. Broke your mind.

Luna had used them as an example. How not everything is how it seems.

Harry hadn't taken them so seriously. He joked that Alius must have been affected by them.

Now he understood what Luna had meant. Alius seemed to be so much more than he was. And Harry- so much less.

He felt a stab of pain in his chest. As if his parents had knifed him. (_They might as well of. It hurts so much_). All he could feel was

Pain.

_Pain_.

**PAIN**.

And then he was crying.

He didn't know how- everyone always had told him that he had never cried. Not once. But he did now.

"It hurts," he moaned. Maybe someone had cursed him? His parents, for insulting Al?

The pain increased.

"So... _bad_."

It was so painful. Harry had never experienced anything like it. He didn't understand that he was just feeling upset, rejected, and unloved. He didn't understand _why_.

**_"Reparo,_**" he murmured. "**_Reparo, reparo, reparo!_**"

But the spell couldn't fix him.

And the people who could... they weren't there.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore saw through the window what was happening. The boy was tearing up, hands over his head and eyes in miserable slits. Looking at Alius, the perfect child, the perfect son. The Potters loved him, Albus was sure of it. But... they had another son. One Albus hadn't heard of, nor from, since the boy was young.

The Potters didn't seem to see how Harry had slowly drifted away, and Albus felt regretful that even he had neglected to notice the child's withdrawal.

Now Harry stood. Albus watched in awe as the tears vanished, as if by magic. Unlikely, he thought, as the boy has never had any teaching. But he watched the boy with scrutiny now, as he stood and made his way back towards the house, an emotionless mask over a real face.

"Albus? Albus? _Dumbledore?_" Lily questioned, concerned.

Albus shook his head of the thoughts, and turned to face the other Potters once more. "Ah yes, we'll begin the lesson. Has James set everything up?"

James stuck a smiley head out the door and nodded. "Yep. All's ready." He entered the kitchen again, standing behind Lily's chair. "Eat up, Al. You'll need your strength for this."

Harry came in, silently, and headed towards the main door.

"No!" Albus yelled, but it was too late. Harry had walked straight into the path of the large box. Immediately, something emerged from the box. Or... more like _somethings_.

Lily and James Potter climbed out, along with their son, Alius. Boggart.

"No one cares about you, Harry!" Al sneered. "Mum and Dad chose me, instead!"

Lily jeered with him, "of course we did! You're useless! You can't do anything right! Not even You-Know-Who thought you worth it!"

James smirked. "We all hate you. Your brother is perfect. We love him. We love him like we never did you!"

"Alius isn't perfect!" Harry snarled. "**_Riddikulus!_**"

The four at the door cocked their heads in confusion when nothing happened to the boggart.

"_Aah!_" Boggart-Alius screamed. His hand was at his forhead, and, when he removed it, the skin was clear. No gaudy lightning scar. The Boggart-parents looked shocked and disgusted.

Boggart-Lily screamed in outrage.

Behind Harry the group reacted.

Lily and James stared at him in horror, with dropping jaws and wide eyes. Alius looked befuddled. Albus... he looked like Harry had proven his expectations, something Harry didn't like doing, and a grim line was set on his face.

"Harry," Lily said, her voice wobbly.

He didn't turn. "You can't deny it, can you." It wasn't a question. It was a plead.

"Oh, Harry," Lily sighed, moving forward. But Harry swung 'round, eyes blazing.

_"Can you?_"

Lily didn't answer, her mouth open, trying desperately to form a coherent sentence. She wanted to hug him, to tell she loved him just as much as she did Al, and that they_ had_ to favor Al because he was going to be their hero. He was going to endure _so_ much.

But she was too late. Harry stared at her in awe. "You can't. None of you can." He backed up, and then, so fast that they couldn't tell what he was doing, he had backed up into the fireplace with a handful of floo powder... he yelled something she couldn't understand... and then he was gone.

* * *

_"Harry, please come back. Please. We love you. We miss you. Please, my love. Come home. Come home..."_

She muttered into the howler. Unlike most, this wouldn't scream, but convey the message in her soft, miserable tone.

_Please let this reach Harry._ She wished, as she handed the message to Hedwig, Harry's owl. She believed Hedwig could find her master. She hoped so.

* * *

**_"Incendio,_**" he said, watching the unread letter go up in flames.

* * *

Harry faced Griphook with an equally mirthless expression. "I wish to see the Muggleborn Evans family vault, Mister Griphook."

'Mister' Griphook smiled a little, a disgusting look on his goblin face. "Of course, Mr Potter... but, may I ask, why not the Potter Vault? It has far more valuables within than the Evans vault?"

"That money is for my brother, not I." Harry said bitterly. "I have no key, but I am willing to do a blood test if necessary."

"I believe you, Mister Potter, but it is unlawful to perform the test on anyone without solid proof."

"Of course," Harry said. He had grown used to speaking so formally to people and magical creatures in Diagon Alley, for many took great offense to the slightest of mannerly mistakes.

"If you would come with me, Mister Potter," the goblin said, leading Harry over to another desk, labelled 'Blood Tests'. Harry sat down on a chair in front of the small booth, as Griphook took his place behind it. The goblin placed a small piece of parchment on the table, and held in his other hand a sharp needle. "Give me your hand, Mister Potter."

Harry warily extended it, unquestioningly. Griphook took his pale hand, and quickly pricked his index finger. One perfect drop of crimson dropped on the parchment, sinking into it and disappearing.

"It should tell me the most prominent blood in your body," the goblin told him.

Suddenly, in curly script, words formed-

**_Evans (Slithirin, Rowansworth)_**

**_Potter (Peverell, Black)_**

"Oh," Griphook said, enthralled. He cleared his expression so quickly Harry second-thought whether he'd seen the amazement. "How... strange. Here are your keys, Mister Potter-Evans. Slipfoot, take this human down to vault 654- immediately!"

"Yes, Sir," the inferior goblin said, leading Harry to a cart.

All Harry knew was that it was one _hell_ of a bumpy ride.

* * *

Standing before Vault 654, Harry pondered his inheritance. Slithirin? Rowansworth? He had heard of the Peverell family- his parents had always told of the story of the Deathly Hallows, and the Blacks were a family friend.

Slipfoot activated the vault, and the door slid open.

Harry gasped. He knew his parents were wealthy- but _this_? He stared in awe at all the gold and galleons in the room. Surely no one could notice_ some_ money gone? He scooped up sickles, and knuts, and galleons into a small pouch. He counted it up. It made for 200 galleons. Not enough to live on, but he was confident he'd gain more. Somehow.

Something caught his eye. A key. A Gringotts key.

Surely his mother hadn't left her own key in the vault... _unless._...

He compared the two keys- noticing an obvious difference in size and colour. This new one was far larger and green, rather than the regular metallic silver.

He brought it to Slipfoot, who told him it was most definitely a Gringotts key, and showed him the way. "Vault 191," he said, when they were in front of the new vault. It was also a serpent green. Almost like his eyes, Harry thought to himself.

He went in and fell back. "Merlin!" He cried. His parents were wealthy, but this vault was filthy rich! The vault was enormous, at least nine times the size of his bedroom, and was filled with various items. Books, coins, gold, and other valuables. His eyes were immediately drawn to the books.

"Whose vault is this?" Harry asked, amazed.

"Ah, this an ancient, noble vault... the name is lost to time, I'm afraid, Mister Potter. Though I'm sure you'll find a name somewhere... perhaps in the books?" The goblin hinted with a grin.

"Right, thank you." Harry said gratefully, already starting his search.

He opened the first book- "_The Power of The Parselmouth"_. Nothing. "_The Most Noble House of Slytherin_" Naught. "_Slithirin to Slytherin"_- wait,_ what_?

Harry took out the crumpled piece of parchment in his pocket. There it was! He was a heir of Slithirin? Uh...

He opened the main passage in the book.

_Good day, or night, as it may be. I am called Salazar Slithirin, though many now know me as Slytherin, one of the four founders of the mighty school of Hogwarts. My parents were Blood Betrayers, fools who only believed in helping filthy muggles. But where did it lead them? Towards the stake on which they burned. Muggles will never understand us. We are too powerful... too different, for them to ever. This interbreeding that leads to Half-Bloods is less than respected, but my parents supported it. Blood Betrayers were frowned down upon by all. It was my dear friend, Godric Grifindoor, who saved me. We were too different. His parents shared my beliefs on muggles, Blood Betrayers and the like, while Godric shared my parents'. In the end this tore us apart. Rowena Rowansworth, or as she is know named, Ravenclaw, disowned her father for his cruelty. It was he who had her mother slaughtered as a witch. Though not predjudiced, Rowena understood me. We married, and bore a child, whom we called Sallin. Sallin broke our family apart. Some muggles in a town nearby mocked him, calling him a Daemon. He resented this, and brought upon the three muggle boys great pain, using a torture curse of my own design. I named it the Cruciatus Curse. I was proud of my son. He had show strength and mercy, two things I treasured most in this cruel world. But Rowena found it monstrous, and when it leaked that I was the curse's creator, she left, claiming I was no better than her father. This angered me greatly. What I did next, out of remorse and fury, is most likely the reason of my infamous name. Now, as I die, I take on my old name. For Salazar Slytherin was cruel and infamous, but Salazar Slitherin had no evil to his name. Reader, you must know that none of the founders are as the legends tell_.

"Ah," said Slipfoot, appearing behind him.

"I don't understand," said Harry, still staring at the book. "What does this mean?"

"It means, young Potter," Slipfoot said solemnly. "That you are a heir, of the great and noble family of Slytherin."

Harry felt his eyes go big. He took a minute to take this in. Then, with a foolhardy smirk, he declared, "then, please, Mister Slipfoot. Call me Harry Slitherin."

* * *

Al wasn't a jerk. At least, he hoped he wasn't. He didn't know his brother very much- Harry had always been somewhat excluded in family activities. A distant figure who happened to live in his house. Al hadn't really ever attempted to talk to his brother. He knew Harry didn't like talking to him and had never bothered trying. He guessed Harry wouldn't care about what he had to say.

Besides, his long-time friend Ron Weasley had told him he knew 'Harry's type'. Ron had snorted at the sight of young Harry sitting on the staircase, engrossed in a book, and told Al that Harry wasn't the type to 'hang out' or 'have fun with'. Al guessed that Ron should know, seeing that the other boy had so many siblings.

The morning his brother ran away he'd attempted a joke. He didn't really know what type of person _he_ was, though Ron assured him was of the right sort. He'd tried a few different edges, today he was going to try 'funny', like his dad. His _dad_. His idol.

"My milk is too wet," he said, mock-whiney. He waited for his parents to laugh, but instead they looked worried.

"Oh, Al! I'm so sorry," apologized his mother, sounding terribly guilty.

"Should I get you another bowl?" Asked his father.

Al just blinked up at them. Were they serious?

"I'm... I'm joking, guys."

His parents gave ridiculously fake laughs, sounding nervous. Al hated when they did this. He wished they'd act normal, for once. Like they did with Harry, he thought foolishly.

He sighed, taking another spoonful of cereal. "Just because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, doesn't mean you can't act like parents 'stead of fans."

Lily and James looked guilty, "we just want you to be happy, baby," Lily said, hugging her son. And when it came down to those moments, his parents' and friends' love and respect, or Harry, his anti-social brother who hated him- Harry was at a disadvantage.

He loved his brother, but more as that cousin you don't know very well. At all.

* * *

"It's cold," the boy muttered to himself. "So very, very cold..."

He had taken to talking to himself over those lonely two months. He'd been living on the streets of muggle London, moving around and begging for money. Though rich in galleons, in pounds he was not. He hadn't the energy to go all the way back to Gringotts- he didn't know how to get there without use of floo or side-along apparition. And who knew who might recognize him had he tried?

His belongings at the moment varied from some small coins to multiple books on the Dark Arts from Slithirin's vault. Stupidly, he had never thought about the prospect of being cold, or hungry, and was unprepared for the harsh life outside of Godric's Hallow. He felt he'd been spoilt in his old house compared to what he was living through now.

It was a horrid day, with freezing temperatures, strong, gusty winds, and torrential rain. He had being scouring through his books for some source of heat. The only fire charm he knew was 'Incendio', but it was too weak and burned out all too quickly. It took him an hour of skimming through the pages to find anything to aid him whatsoever, as Fire-Making charms are not usually seen as 'Dark'.

_"The 'Flamosiul' Charm is a dark spell that Slithirin himself invented. While witches and wizards burned on the stake, Slithirin taught his followers to burn muggles as they were to death with the incantation of 'Flamos' (Pronounced Fla-ay-mos). This spell causes the victim to go up in green flames. As painful as burning to death is, the Flamosiul Charm is also used as a Torture Charm; as the victim will suffer for hours on end before fully burning, as magical flames are slower to light than real flames. (Wand movement- twirl and flick at desired area)_."

Harry closed the book, putting it back into his bag. He looked over his shoulder, assuring his privacy, and muttered "**_Flamos_**" at the crumpled pile of newspapers in front of him. An unnatural green fire arose from the burning papers.

_Heat_. _Brilliant, __**Brilliant**__ heat_.

But it would only last a while, and he may have to put it out if any muggles, or wizards alike, came too close. And, with the merciless temperature, he almost wished someone would find him.

That someone would try.

* * *

_They had been searching for the last two months, suffering ongoing trails trying to find their son. Sirius, Harry's Godfather, was particularly worried. He had been the kid's first 'Friend', and when Harry was four years of age he had always referred to Sirius as 'My best friend Siri'. Remus was also very anxious. He hadn't been able to pick up Harry's scent anywhere they had looked. _

_Dumbledore seemed strangely affected. Lily had dismissed it at first, but now was watching the man oddly._

_"What's wrong, Albus?"_

_Dumbledore snapped back to reality, and looked over to her. "I fear we have made a grave mistake, Lily."_

_"It wasn't your fault, Professor." She said out of habit, sniffling a little. "It was mine," she and James said at the same time._

_"I'm... I'm sure Harry will come back soon," said Remus, unsure._

_"Harry?" Dumbledore said, in a daze again. It was like he didn't recognize the name. He shook. "Oh, yes. Harry."_

_"What do you mean, sir?"_

_Dumbledore sighed, overwhelmed. "Nothing, James. Harry just reminds me of another boy I once taught."_

_"Oh, what was his name, sir? We may have known him."_

_"I doubt it, he was born in a time before you. His name... his name was Tom Riddle_.

* * *

Harry hadn't seen any wizards, or muggles alike, looking for him, since he had run away. He hadn't even heard of his parents trying to find him.

Harry remembered the Boggart.

"**_No one cares about you, Harry._**"

He banished the thought from his mind, shaking a little in the warmth.

Boggarts show one's worst fear... and Harry's fear had become his terrible reality.

* * *

_James found no escape anymore in the large warm bed. Lily stayed near the edge. He knew she believed he couldn't hear her sobs- but he did. If he was as arrogant as he had been when he was younger, he would've taken it as a source of comfort. Someone else felt bad, too. But now it just made him feel worse. What sort of parent was he? Harry James Potter- named for himself. Forgotten._

_James wanted to throw up at the idiocy of it all. _

_He wanted to talk about it- but to whom? Peter- hell, no. What an awkward conversation that would make. Remus- maybe? But Remus was in a huff (huff, and I'll puff... no? Don't get it?) with him. Sirius- he couldn't do that to his friend. Walburga Black had always favoured Sirius' brother, Regulus. Sirius had ran away, taking shelter in Potter house. He had ran away from a home that hated him. Or so he thought. Harry had now just done the same thing. He knew bringing it up would ruin Sirius. He had always loved Harry, more so than Harry's own parents had.  
_

_Lily gave another heart-wrenching howl from the other side of the bed. _

_"It's okay," James said, reaching over to hug her.** Lies, lies, lies...**  
_

_"No, James!" She cried. "It's not!"_

* * *

He edged closer to the magical flames, taking in the slight heat.

He felt hungry. So very, very hungry. No spell could conjure real food. It could only mimic something edible. It wouldn't last that way.

_He_ couldn't last like this.

Harry had known that from the start. But back then, anything was better than Godric's Hallow. _Anything_.

He had thought his parents would've found him at this point. Would've apologized. Would've brought him home.

His eyes blazed like green flames.

They hadn't.

Hadn't bothered.

Hadn't _tried_.

Harry growled, hurt. _Why do I care? I've got to stop pitying myself. Even if I'm the only one who does._

But _he_ had. He had _bothered_ to be a good son._ Tried_ his hardest.

And now he was free.

And the thought made him grin.

* * *

_Sirius Black was always seen as 'the happy' one. He went through many 'blood traitor' insults, nonplussed. He'd been disowned when he was a kid, uncaring. He'd ran away even sooner- pleased._

_He'd always thought he'd get married. Everyone thought so. He was the hilarious 'flirt', and proud of it. He'd expected to be married and have a family, by now. Though his friends were family to him... they were not by blood nor marriage. So, when he'd seen James' eyes going past Harry like he wasn't there for the hundredth time, he'd sort of adopted the kid. Harry was like a nephew to him. Then, he, like all the rest, became obsessed with knowing the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. It had taken time, and by the time Sirius had completely forgotten the kid, he was seven. Six years of loving the two twins equally. He deserved an award- only he and Remus had lasted so long. But it wasn't enough. Harry was gone now. _

_Harry had always looked like James, except with his mother's eyes. He even had James' comb-eating hair. Sirius had used to joke, calling Harry 'Hairy' which the toddler had resented._

_"Harry no Hairy." Harry had huffed. Like 'Hairy' was something very bad._

_Right now, Sirius would go for either_.

* * *

He slowly fell to sleep, beside the jade fire, slipping into a dream without vision.

_S'okay, kid... __**Avada Kedavra**__... Ah, Harry Potter... Killing-Curse green eyes... A monster hissing... Those eyes... die, child... A woman screaming... __**Avada Kedavra!**_

A flash of green light, and it was over.

* * *

Harry woke to see his fire dying, smoke escaping into the muggle area. He sat up, tired, and took out his book to perform the fire-making spell again.

"_HEY!_" Came an adult's voice, and Harry whipped 'round. He shrunk his book and hid it, quickly. A group of muggles with strange uniforms stood at the end of his alley. Their suits read 'POLICE', and Harry cocked his head in confusion. _What's a police?_

"That's a kid!"

"Homeless?"

"We should bring him to Miss Stubbs."

Harry stood, shaking. He grabbed his bag, shrunk it, and fit it into his pocket. Eying his way for an escape, he found nothing. The only option was to run right past him. With slow steps towards the men, he looked for a gap between them. There! Between the moustached and the bearded one. Head down, he stopped, and they watched him in confusion.

Then he bolted.

"After him!" Yelled bearded.

Harry panted, not used to athletic activity. He'd choose books over sports any day. He skidded down another street. It was dark now, and the rain lashed down on him. He no longer had the shelter of his little alley with the extending roof.

Though Harry was quick and stealthy, the 'POLICE' were persistent. He ran in the dark through another alley- running into a wall. The last consistent thought he had was _Oh, Merlin, I'm an id-_ before everything went black.

* * *

On his wake, he found himself in a small room. The door, from what he could tell, had no lock. The windows, however, were bolted shut. He stared out of them, he could only just make out a sign.

"W-W-Wool's..." His eyes widened. "_Orphanage?_" _Nonononononononononono._

He rushed to the door. There was a name plate on it. 'Harry S.'

Of course. He'd left his notepad in his pocket. The book had read, over and over again, I am Harry Slithirin. I am Harry Slithirin. I am Harry Slithirin. Until even he had believed it. Mostly.

He tore the name plate off the door. Beneath it was yet another name. 'Martin. T'. He ripped that one off too. 'Rodrig F.' 'Flynt M.' 'Jass G'.

Then there was one last name. One that he recognized.

'Tom. R'

Every time Dumbledore had seen him, he had brought up one name- Tom Riddle.

Was this a coincidence?

... But coincidences don't happen in the Wizarding World, did they?

Someone knocked on the door, and Harry rushed back to the bed. He winced at how stiff the mattress was, and how thin the blankets were. He dived beneath the blanket, only then realizing he was shoeless. A thought occurred to him. What if...

He touched his clothing. It was different. These clothes were clean and fresh. He opened one eye. And grey. They were grey, too. He was nearly relieved. Wearing the same outfit for so long was a putrid experience. But what about his books? He gulped, horrified at the idea.

A woman opened the door. She had light brown hair, up in a high bun, and an old fashioned white blouse and grey skirt. Around her waist was a red apron, and the woman was balancing a filled mixing bowl on her hip with a spoon in her other hand.

"Hello, Harry," she said kindly. "How are you?"

_Other than the fact I woke up here? _"Okay."

"I'm sorry if you got a bit of a fright," she smiled. "My father had the fright of his life waking up here. He was an orphan, too." Her expression turned anxious. "You are an orphan, are you not?"

Harry took a minute, then gave a perfectly polite smile. "Oh, yes Ma'am. My parents died years ago."

"Oh," she said, understandingly. "My father died a good few years ago, now. He'd always hated this place. Some cruel boy hung his pet rabbit from the rafters when he attended Wool's, you know."

Harry nodded, though he did not know.

"So I decided I'd take over the place, after Miss Cole passed away. Her aunt, Mrs Cole, ran it when my father came here," she went on. "Nasty piece of work, she was."

Harry nodded again, trying to keep up.

"Oh, yes, I forgot to introduce myself- how silly. My name is Miss Stubbs, Harry, and we promise to take care of you here."

* * *

_It had been a year since Harry had disappeared. The Ministry hadn't even managed to find traces of the young Potter. They had checked Gringotts, but no Harry Potter was in its data base. There were only 'Harry Glassred' 'Harry Motrig' and 'Harry Slithirin', to name a few, who were even his age. No one in the Wizarding world had heard of, nor from him. The Potters weren't surprised. Most wizards didn't even know the Chosen One had a brother._

_Maybe if Harry had come out in public at least once or twice, he would've been found. But Dumbledore doubted it. As sorry as he was for the boy, he couldn't do with Al being distracted. The poor child had been quieter, now. A little distant. _

_Understandable. He had just lost his brother. _

_But Al was ten now. He needed to be prepared for Hogwarts, Dumbledore fretted. He needed to be prepared for whatever problems faced him within the walls._

_And there would be problems._

* * *

Tom Riddle had been in Fifth year when he'd placed a piece of himself within the diary. A well done curse, if he had to say so himself, and all it had taken was his father's life. No good muggle. And it had been well worth it.

As an inconsistent memory, Tom didn't feel the time going by. He had created this horcux in 1943. He had waited, bided his time. But even though he was a memory with no real sense of time, he knew it had been a forever since he'd killed his father in reality. In fact, by the time someone had opened his diary, it had been forty-six years. He remembered the excitement as writing appeared in the diary he held in his hands. This was his world, made from his mind.

He had wondered what to do? Possess the fool, or manipulate him? It depended, he decided. Pureblood or Mudblood. Wise or stupid. _Powerful,_ or weak. He watched in anticipation as words were written, as if by an invisible quill, onto the paper.

_My name is Harry._

Tom watched as the writing vanished.

_I live in an orphanage. Wool's. _

He blinked. _Wool's?_

_My mother was a mudblood, my father a pure bred Blood Traitor. _

A halfblood, Tom realized. Like him. He almost pitied the boy.

_They were bewitched by a liar. His name is Dumbledore._

Tom could understand that. Of all his five years in Hogwarts, Dumbledore had rightfully been suspicious of him after he'd accused the oaf, Hagrid, of being the heir. Ridiculous, Tom knew, and he almost regretted soiling the Slytherin name. But it had saved him from a lifetime in Azkaban, so he was grateful. As grateful as the contemptuous teen could be.

_I ran. Away from my hateful parents, Dumbledore, and my pompous brother..._

Tom nearly dropped the blurry diary he held at the words that followed this.

_So what's your story, Tom?_

* * *

He had been searching everywhere for his books. They weren't all in his jacket when he'd checked. There was only a 3rd year charm book, which he'd had, shrunken, in his pocket since he'd ran away.

In desperation, he'd searched the book for some sort of helpful charm. Perhaps a Where-I-Am charm, or a Point-Me charm? Neither were within the basic book, but he did find something of equal aid. The summoning charm.

"**_Accio _**_my _books," he'd murmured, as not to inform the muggles of his powers. The books had come flying in, from where he supposed was the Laundry room. He'd looked closely at the ratty diary he'd picked up in Slithirin's vault. At the time he had guessed it to be Salazar's own, but now he was rethinking it.

He used a spell he'd heard his father use on Al's fan mail, one that checks for any spells or curses. He aimed it at the book.

"**_Arentizo,_**" he muttered, not quite sure. Nothing happened. He stared at it in confusion. "**_Arentillo?_**" Nil. "**_Alentio?_**_" _Zip. Did this always have to happen?

Fed up, he muttered, "**_Show me_**." To his surprise, the book gave a jump, and its pages began flipping. It landed at a page in the middle, and writing started to appear.

_This is Tom M. Riddle's Diary, and Horcrux. This diary is protected with: _

_Horcrux Magic._

_Threats from this diary are:_

_Possession._

_No other curses/spells/charms within this diary._

A Horcrux? He mused. It must be incredibly dark if he hadn't heard of it already. It was that revelation that brought an amused Harry to write in it.

* * *

_How do you know me to be here, Harry?_ He scrawled furiously.

_You are a horcrux_ came the other boy's writing. Tom sucked in a breath, but exhaled at the next sentence. _What does that mean?_

Tom considered lying to him, but chose against it. Half truths were his style. _It means I'll live forever. How did you find my diary? _

_It was in my vault_. Came the innocent reply.

_Your vault? And which may that be?_

_The most ancient vault of Slithirin. _Tom read on, amazed. An heir? A relative? But with unworthy parents, like his own. Bah.

_What year is it, Harry?_

_1989._

Tom choked, or, would have, had been been substantial. _Then it has been forty-six years since I created this. What is the world like?_

_It is a terrible_ _place_, said the cursive writing._ Dumbledore manipulates, parents neglect, and people think Dark Magick is evil._

Tom took a minute to write back... _Nothing new, then._

* * *

Harry laughed a little.

_What's__** your**__ story, Harry?_

Harry paused, distrusting for a moment. But he began to write, in swirly letters, _before I was born, a prophecy was spoken. It said that the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord was going to be born soon. Three people met the description. Alius Potter, Neville Longbottom, and myself. Alius Potter used to be my twin._

_Used to be?_ Tom asked.

_I'll get onto that later, _came Harry's irked scrawl. _The Dark Lord came to my house when I was one. He killed my grandparents, who were babysitting, and then tried to kill one of us. Everyone thought Alius was the one he tried to kill, but that Alius made the curse rebound on the Dark Lord. They hailed Alius as the Boy-Who-Lived, while my parents and the rest of the world slowly forgot about me. Birthdays, Christmas, Halloween... my parents forgot my existence. I hated that. I hated them. So I ran away. I was caught, though, by some people called 'POLICE's. They brought me to this place, called Wool's Orphanage. It's horrible here. The muggle children hate me, and the lady in charge, Miss Stubbs, seems scared of me now._

_Miss Stubbs?_ Tom repeated, amused.

_Yes. I believe you killed her dad's rabbit. (I found your name on my door)._

_I believe so, as well. How old are you, Harry?_

_9. _

_And why are you no longer a Potter?_

_When I ran away, I found out I was a descendent of Slytherin, or Slithirin. I chose to take on his original name, instead of keeping Lily and James Potter's. _

_I respect that_, wrote Tom, truthfully. _One last question, Harry._

_Yes?_

_What is the name of this 'Dark Lord'?_

_Voldemort. Lord Voldemort._

And with that, Tom Riddle found himself smirking brilliantly.

* * *

**ONE YEAR LATER- ****_AGE: 10._**

The children in Wool's were relatively nice. So when the new girl, Holly Banks, arrived, they all (excluding one) welcomed her kindly.

Holly was a sociable, cheerful girl- "_And what's your name, and your name- oh, and your name?_" And all the orphans (excluding one) found her likable. Then she made the mistake of turning to a boy with raven black hair, unnaturally green eyes, and pale skin, and asking "and your name?"

The boy sneered at her. And then the oddest thing happened. One minute, she was smiling and waiting expectantly, and the next, she felt like all the happiness was being drained out of her.

"Who was that?" She asked later, as one of her new friends comforted her in the common room. There was no one else there, just a hooded boy, writing in a diary.

"Harry Slithirin," her new friend murmured. "E's dark, Holly. Dark as 'un can get."

"How did he do that?"

"E's dark, 'Olly." The girl said, again. "The boys used ta call 'im a 'freak', but then bad things starte' 'appenin' to 'em. Rian started having accidents in 'is bed, blaming it on the nightmares that plagued him. 'N' he was 'un of the nicer 'uns to Harry. The worse 'uns... Tony used ta kick Harry, now 'e's got a broken leg, 'n' Tammie Goldwin used ta gossip 'bout 'im, now she can' talk."

"Oh..." said Holly, feeling a little scared now.

"Yeah, 'n' I 'eard 'e was 'un of the runners."

"Runners?"

"The un's who choose to leave 'ome. I 'eard 'is parents neglected him. I sorta' feel bad for the kid."

"How old was he?"

"Nine. But his parents ignored him since he was a babe."

"Oh," Holly said, sadly. "That's horrible." Holly had gone through a normal life, with loving parents, and a two-story house with just enough food. Her parents had died in a car crash, earlier that year. Holly had been at home. She still thought it was her fault. She'd gone to live with her aunt, who hated her. Two months later, her aunt dropped her off at Wool's Orphanage and drove off without a 'goodbye'. Holly was ten.

"'E always calls us something odd. Mukkles or somet'in'."

"Muggles?" Holly asked, out of the blue. She recognized the word. Her aunt had called her that. A 'filthy muggle'. She saw in the corner of her eye the boy with the diary look up for a moment. Dark in emotion, while not in colour, eyes clashed with her own blue ones. She looked away first. Feeling uneasy, she had to push away the idea that he recognized those terrifying jade orbs.

"Yeah." Her friend said, unaware of the eye-to-eye confrontation Holly had just had.

"Thanks," Holly said hurriedly, not tarrying to scoop up her belongings and flee from the room with nothing more than a '_bye!'_

* * *

The next day Holly's friend was shaking. When Holly attempted to sit beside her, the girl burst into tears and ran away.

* * *

Holly heard her screaming that night.

* * *

_It's been a year since you asked for my story, Harry. I suppose, now, after having taught you as much as I can from your level, I should share my memories. Do you mind?_

_No, of course not_, Harry replied, excited. His eyes widened as the book began to suck him in, but he forced himself to subdue. And, with that, Harry vanished.

* * *

_He was watching as a boy, who looked a lot like him, sat in the very room Harry had just been in. In his hands was a box, with a yo-yo, a hand-band, and a small ball. He got up, abruptly, leaving the box on his bed. He'd heard something._

_By the time he reached his door, and unlocked it, he found words scraped into it. The scars on the wood read- FREAK._

* * *

_Time had passed, now, but he was in the same room. A younger version of Albus Dumbledore, with greying auburn hair, had set the wardrobe on fire. Tom's words echoed eerily,_

_"I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt if I want to...I can speak to snakes too. They find me, they whisper to me. __**I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt if I want to...I can speak to snakes too. They find me, they whisper... whisper... to me. "**_

_And then, Dumbledore's words, echoing along with the previous, "You are a wizard, you are a wizard, you are a wizard."_

* * *

_He was in a shop labelled 'Ollivander's' and he was holding a wand, which emitted a smokey green skull._

_"3½", Yew, phoenix feather core... powerful, Mr Riddle, very powerful indeed. This wand will do great things, I tell you, sir. Great things..."_

* * *

_He was on the train. 'The Hogwarts Express'. Two people entered his compartment. _

_"I'm Abraxas Malfoy," one said. _

_"I'm Alphard Black." The other introduced._

_"Are you pureblooded?" Malfoy questioned, raising a delicate eyebrow._

_"I don't know," Tom said smoothly. "I was raised in a muggle Orphanage."_

_Alphard frowned, and Malfoy sneered. "Mudblood..."_

_The two left the compartment._

* * *

_"Brave..." said the hat. "But not excessively so. You fear Death, do you not, Tom?"_

_"Shut up," Tom hissed, unable to stop the dark thoughts from rushing through his head._

_"__**SLYTHERIN!"**__ The hat cried._

* * *

_A school year had passed... he didn't want to go back... not to the place where they carved 'FREAK' into his door... where they despised him... not back to his inferiors... they were just_ **muggles**_._

_"Please don't make go, sir," he begged._

* * *

_He was on the train back to the orphanage. On the other hand, he had a large knowledge of curses and a reputation in Wool's for being the 'maniac'. To the ignorant muggles, Hogwarts was a school for the insane. _

_But it was so much more..._

* * *

_He was twelve, still searching for a Wizard named 'Riddle' in the record books. He found nothing._

* * *

_He was far older know, fifteen at least. A shining prefect badge adorned his dark robes. He had to be quick. He had told Mrs Cole that he would be off the train at 4pm, and it was 3. Gathering all of his wits, he shut his eyes and apparated. It was illegal, he knew, to do so at such an age and in a muggle area, such as the train station. But they wouldn't be able to tell it was him- after all, he was underage. How would he know how to apparate?_

_He had appeared before a large house. _

_"__**BOMBARDA!**__" He yelled, pointing his wand at the door. It burst open, smoking heavily._

* * *

_He saw his grandparents. Muggles. _

_They hadn't done anything. They didn't deserve what their son was being punished with. _

_But... **muggles**. He closed his eyes, a single sign of weakness. _

_"__**AVADA KEDAVRA**__!"_

* * *

_His father. He didn't think twice._

* * *

_The man fell, dead. Blue eyes, so different from his own... lifeless._

_Filthy muggle._

_He didn't feel any remorse, and just apparated away. _

* * *

_Sixth year, gathering his followers and meeting in the Room of Requirement. The Knights of Walpurgis. _

_What a stupid name, he thought. Abraxas had come up with it, telling of a Lord named Walpurgis who had brought safety to his people by executing muggles who had before been killing wizards. It sounded good, at the time._

_"I propose we take a new name," Tom said, knowingly. _

_"Like what?" Crabbe grunted. The oaf wasn't worth much, Tom knew. But he was pureblood and rich, with links to even higher families- and he looked fierce. Tom had uses for him._

_Tom thought for a moment, before suggesting, "how about... The Death Eaters."_

* * *

_He was screaming, the pain was excruciating. But, slowly, surely, __**amazingly**__, a wispy, silver piece of soul began holding onto his wand. He stared at it. It was beautiful, delicate..._

_He wouldn't miss it._

_With utter confidence, he extracted the last part of his soul, and placed it into his diary. _

_He would live...__** forever**__._

* * *

Harry gasped.

_You're Lord Voldemort._

He could almost see the grin in Tom's writing. _Yes._

Tom smiled, not expecting the boy to write again.

To his interest, the word _wow_ came up.

_What do you mean, 'wow'?_

_That's amazing- you're as powerful as Dumbledore!_

Tom smiled, genuinely this time.

_Not yet, but I will be. Harry, your Hogwarts letter will be arriving soon. Practice your occlumency- Dumbledore likes to check the cores and minds of his students first. If your shields are too weak, think innocent thoughts. Like kittens, and bows, and chocolate. The buffoon will be suspicious, but he won't get anything from you._

_Why are you telling me this? My birthday isn't for a month. _

_Because I mightn't be able so, later. _

_Why?_

_The transition might not work properly. _

_What transition? Tom?_

_I need you to do something for me, first, Harry._

_Tell me what, then tell me __why__._

_I need something._

_What__?_

_A body._

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Harry finished the letter- _Harry, Out_. He smiled, a sad sort of smile.

He hid it carefully, not planning to let anyone read it for a long time.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Holly sat at the bottom of her bed. She had scooted back mere minutes ago, having seen something horrifying. A brilliant, jade-coloured snake. It was coiled up on her pillow, hissing gently. She must be hallucinating. She was certain that she had heard it talk.

And she had talked back.

She couldn't remember most of the conversation, but she understood that normal people did not talk to snakes.

_Maaaster?_ It hissed, confused. She let out a whimper. She hated snakes. It continued until its talking sounded like hissing again.

"Thank God," she murmured. She looked out the window to find the world outside pitch black. She blinked. Hadn't it only been three when she'd came up to read?

A little confused, she made her way over to the blinds, pulling them tightly shut. Regardless of how little she liked snakes, people might think her the second Harry Slithirin if she was found with a serpent in her bed.

Remembering the green-eyed beast, she turned back to her bed. The snake was gone. All the proof that it was ever there was in small creases around her pillow.

She must be hallucinating. She yawned, once, and returned to her bed, tired suddenly. She felt like, though she remembered nothing of it, she'd been up and active for hours. She, though wary of her supposed 'hallucinations', gave way to sleep quickly and drifted off with frightful dreams of green eyes and dark hair.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

When she woke, it took her a few minutes to gather her bearings. Her sight seemed blurred, and she couldn't seem to remember opening her eyes. It felt like she'd been awake before noticing so. But that couldn't happen.

When her sight cleared, she took in her surroundings. A bookshelf of odd books, named so strangely she couldn't even read what they were called. Monstrous Bubbulisks? Differentiating Darke Magick? A large pile of newspapers sat at a bed table, with equally preposterous headlines. Malfoy Mansion Manic? Hogwarts Letter for Boy-Who-Lived? You-Know-Who Followers Found?

She could not understand a _word_ of it.

She next noticed someone sitting next to her on the bed. A boy. And now she was positive that she was not in her room.

Her eye lids fluttered, and she felt oddly tired. The same feeling from yesterday. Her head turned to the window- huh? Cars and buses cruised through the streets, and people bustled 'round. Surely she couldn't have slept so late?

The final clue- she was sitting up. Hands on her lap and legs crossed.

Dear Lord.

The boy stared at her, seemingly as befuddled as she was.

Wait- oh no.

It was him.

Harry Slithirin- the Devil himself, some said. His jade eyes so like the snake from yesterday bored into her and she cocked her head. Was she hallucinating again?

"W-w-why am I here?" She stuttered. Would he hurt her like he did Rian? Or Tammie? Or Tony? Or the many other victims of his anger?

He copied her, cocking his own head. Longish black hair followed his head in the action, covering the green eyes staring so intensely at her. "Yes," he murmured. "Why are you?"

Holly, terrified, shook as she attempted to stand.

"Is this real?"

He looked at her, interested. "Yes, I should hope so. Or are we both hallucinating?"

Holly stepped back. It was like he had read her mind.

"I hope not," Holly muttered. "Why should I be hallucinating _you?_"

His eyes flashed with something similar to mirth. Holly guessed she was seeing things again.

"Quite so," he said.

Holly slowly backed over to the door, "I suppose I'll go then…"

"Cheerio," Harry called. She couldn't tell if it was sarcastic or sincere.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

The girl Holly had made friends with that first day, who avoided her now, was called Scottie. Scottie, who regularly just steered clear of her, was watching her like a dear would look at a lion.

Holly eventually got sick of the act after Scottie begged the teacher in front of the whole of her English class to swap partners, and approached her at lunch.

"Scottie, what's wrong?" She asked, sneaking up on the girl at a lone table and plopping down beside her. She'd remembered how much Scottie loved food and had guessed she'd be first to the canteen. None of Scottie's friends had arrived yet, so Holly had minutes to speak to her.

The girl cried out, bushy brown hair bouncing as she leaped in her seat. She was shivering, Holly noted.

"P-p-please don' 'ur' me," Scottie begged. Brown eyes stared into hers like a doe's.

"Why would I hurt you Scott?"

Scottie looked horrified. "Ya did it last week. Ya called me a mukkle."

Holly felt her mouth form a wide 'o'. "What?"

"Ya did," Scottie insisted, scooting down the bench, away from her. "A moronic, filt'y mukkle."

"A… a muggle?"

Scottie's eyes went big. "Yes! Ya did!" She shuddered. "Don' 'urt me again, please."

"What did I do?" Holly gasped.

"Ya did bad stuff, like Slithirin. You're a bad 'un!" Scottie yelled, eyes big, and rushed out of the canteen, the juice box in her taut grip spurting.

0oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Harry had learnt from the day he'd ran away.

He had learned from Tom that he had to earn his title of Heir of Slithirin. That he hadn't deserved it when he'd crowned himself Harry Slithirin. But Harry was certain he did now. He had worked with Tom, gaining him a body and more power. Even better, this body had natural magic. A Mudblood, most likely, but it was better than a muggle, Tom said.

Tom had taught him to keep his thoughts hidden, to protect himself, and to fight. Basics, of course. He only spells that would help him, not miserable changing-your-rat-into-a-goblet spells- though Tom said they were simple enough, so he need not worry.

The best part was that Tom's body could come with him to Hogwarts. Sure, the spell wasn't thorough. He couldn't be Tom all the time. The soul in the body had to have control _sometimes_, or the body might die and leave Tom some sort of zombie.

He felt proud, now. He had worked so hard, helping Tom and gaining a reputation in the orphanage. He had gotten the message across, the message Tom had taught him. That he hated them. That they were inferior.

Even kind, silly Miss Stubbs was scared of him.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Holly left the canteen shortly after. It was hard to miss the frightened glances Scottie's friends were sending her. Even kid, helpful, cheery Miss Stubbs was sending her odd looks.

She didn't know what was going on. Was she having black outs? Was that why chunks of her day were vanishing? Or was it something stranger? Something… _impossible_.

She knew only one person who could give her the answers.

Harry Slithirin.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Half-way through 'Dark Magick Worthy' Harry heard a knocking on his door.

"Come in," he said, flipping the page. _Horcrux's are of the Darkest Magick. To make a Horcrux is to give up part of your soul. It takes murder to make a Horcrux, and with every Horcrux, its creator becomes less human-_

"Slithirin?"

He looked up. He thought he knew what was happening immediately.

"Oh, Tom, I was just looking up-"

"Tom?" Came a soft, feminine voice.

Feminine?

As strange as it was, Harry had gotten used to the comical sound of Tom's male voice coming from the girl.

"Oh, it's you, Holly Banks." He said, looking back down quickly. He had to cover up _that _mistake. He could have ruined everything. "The Sleep-Walker. Am I a Hallucination, this time?"  
She blushed, mumbling something incoherent under her breath. "No. I… I just wanted to… to… to…"

"To?" Harry mocked.

"Toaskyousomething!" She blurted out, face red.

"Pardon?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

She took a deep breath. "I wanted to…" she inhaled. "Ask you something." She exhaled.

"Now, that wasn't too hard, was it?" He teased. Holly nearly smiled before remembering who she was in the presence of. "What?"

"Did you… did you do something to me?"

She watched his eyes widen a fraction, before returning to normal.

"Besides plague you in hallucinations? No."

She winced. "I keep blacking out," she admitted. "Everyone's turned against me in just a few days. They just ignore me."

Harry's eyes sparked with something like empathy. Holly had to keep herself from questioning on it.

But the sympathy vanished and his eyes became cold again. "Maybe you've done something wrong. Or maybe they have."

"W-what?"

"Don't depend on other people," he looked back at his book, though not really comprehending what he was reading. "You'll just get hurt."

Holly looked at him. Now, his eyes betrayed nothing, but his shoulders slumped, and his mouth twisted into a grim line. Holly recalled what Scottie had told her- _"I 'eard 'is parents neglected him. I sorta' feel bad for the kid. His parents ignored him since he was a babe. _"

She had the sudden urge to leave, to go back to her room, and then her body was working against her. Her feet were stomping her away, and the most movement she could manage was a feeble wave in his direction. As she drifted 'way to sleep in her bed, her body refusing to let her go, her last thought was that Harry Slithirin might be bad- but he wasn't evil.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

_She was walking down the corridor, but she felt… pushed away, by her own body. Her mind was dormant, but she could make out what was happening. _

_She stopped in front of Harry's room, knocking, thrice._

_Harry opened the door. "I'm supposing it's you. We did agree to only use the three knocks."_

_"Yes," she said, in a masculine voice not her own. "She was too weak. Her mind submitted to sleep, unaware and quiet. We should have time. If she wakes up here again, remove her memory."_

_"Okay," Harry agreed. He stepped away from the door. "Do come into my humble dwelling, Tom. Don't be a stranger."_

_She felt herself smirk. "Of course, my friend."_

_She let herself in, shutting the door and sitting down at the bottom of the bed. Harry sat up top. _

_"Have you been practicing recently?"_

_"Oh yes. Dumbles couldn't read me if he tried."_

_"Good," she was smirking again. She felt an unfamiliar pride. "And your own legilmency?"_

_"The girl suspects nothing near the truth. She thinks she's experiencing black outs."_

_She laughed, though she felt horrible. What had they done to her?_

_They. _

_There was someone else in her mind._

_Suddenly she felt a painful probe on her thoughts. She backed down, exhausted from fighting, and meekly hid in the corner of her mind. She remembered no more._

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

When she regained consciousness she was standing, yes, _standing,_ alone in her room. She felt dizzy. Sleepy. She made her way back over to her bed, collapsing half on, half off of it.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Upon waking, the events of the other night came flashing back at her. She, like last night, found herself stomping towards Harry Slithirin's room, mindlessly. Except, this time, it was on purpose.

She knocked, three times, on the nameless door. Harry poked his head out, opening his mouth to speak. He took in her bedraggled appearance, bed-hair, bags beneath her eyes, and tears forming. She was only in her raggy pyjamas. He quickly closed his mouth again.

She let the tears flow. "What did you put in me?"

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

She woke in her bed. She was clutching her duvet tightly in her grip. She had the foggy feeling that she was forgetting something.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Miss Stubbs stood over her bed, holding her hand. A look of pity upon her face.

"Oh, dear. It looks like you haven't been resting _at all!_"

Holly felt something stirring in her memory, but something else supressed it. She moaned.

Miss Stubbs patted her head. "Just sleep dear. You haven't been eating or sleeping properly, you must be exhausted."

The kind woman left a tray of food beside her bed. Holly appreciated it, even if she didn't eat it.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

It took a week for her to regain strength. She blacked out less, now. She still didn't know why she was losing time.

That Saturday, she had a visitor. An old man with a long white beard, a peaked red hat, and starry red robes.

"Why are you here?" She said, quizzically.

"You're special, Holly," the man, introduced as 'Headmaster Dumbledore', told her. "You have been invited to attend the school in which I reside, Hogwarts. It's for people like you. People with magic."

"Magic," she breathed. "Show me."

She watched in awe as the walls of her room disappeared, and she stared out into open air. "Wow."

"Do you believe me now?" The Headmaster said, eyes twinkling.

"Yes," she enthused. "_Yes._"

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

"And what is Harry like?" He asked Miss Stubbs.

Her smile faltered. "Harry is… different. He never talks to any of the other orphans, but I sometimes hear him talking in his room. To himself, or to some unknown friend, I don't know. But most of the kids seem afraid of him."

"Afraid of him?"

"W-well, we can never find proof, but there were all these boys who used to bully him. Then, one day, they cornered him in the canteen. I- I don't know what happened to them. They stay away from him know, but they seemed so scared. I don't know whether he did something to them, Albus, but if he did, it was horrible."

Concerned, he asked, "Have any other occurrences like that happened around Harry?"

She gave a dry laugh. "Anything strange happens around Harry. Anyone who bullied him, or irked him ended up in a bad state. Holly Banks? The girl you came to see? The orphans avoid her like the plague. Some of the kids say she's just like him, but Holly's a very sweet girl. Very likable. But some other kids… they say he did something to her. To make her different." The woman's eyes widened. "But what am I doing! You mustn't take my word for it! I could be wrong! Harry is a very smart student, all amazing marks! You must consider letting him go to your school, sir. It would be very good for him. An opportunity to make friends and perhaps discover who he is?"

"Of course, Miss Stubbs," Albus said. "He will be welcomed at Hogwarts, regardless. Though we won't tolerate bullying."

"Oh no! Harry doesn't _bully_, per say. He, in some twisted way, gives them a taste of their own medicine. If he's the one behind all this, believe he was just defending himself. The other orphans don't like him very much, you see."

"Ah," Albus said, truly sorry for the child. "And what about his parents?"

Her expression darkened. "When I first met him, he told me they were dead. Then it got round that he had run away from neglecting parents. I think the reason he won't make friends here is because he doesn't trust anyone." She sighed. "I hate hearing about some of the hard lives my kids go through. But their all so good, really, Albus. Inside."

"It's alright, Miss Stubbs," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "I wouldn't think of judging children before I got to know them."

She smiled, thankful. "That's good. Harry's room is just down the hall, to the left, just before the stairs."

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

He remembered what Tom had told him to say, knowing it would haunt the Headmaster.

"_I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt if I want to...I can speak to snakes too. They find me, they whisper to me. _"

The old man left, minutes later, an unspoken speech on his lips, and a tremble in his step. And Harry was once again left alone. He disillusioned his books on the shelf, and picked up the red crested letter with slight interest. It read, in curly, cursive writing;

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter, _

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. _

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. _

And the next page read-

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM_

_First-year students will require:_

_1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings) _

_Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags._

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _

_by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic _

_by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory _

_by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration _

_by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _

_by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions _

_by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _

_by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _

_by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad._

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS_

_ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus, Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions_.

And, for the first time in quite some time, he gave a genuine smile.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Holly had a dream that night. A boy, perhaps at sixteen years of age, with jade green eyes, equally dark hair, and pale skin, stood before her.

"Rest, Holly," came his voice in a whisper. She felt the need to obey, regardless of the fact that she considered herself already 'resting'. "Rest," his voice sounded quieter, further away. "_Leave._" His green eyes flashed like lightning.

If she had been awake, her eyes would've snapped open. She didn't want to leave. No.

"_**Leave,**_" he growled, angrier now.

_She_ flinched back, hiding in the corner of her mind.

0oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

The strict woman, McGonagall, with greying hair and a dark purple cloak, took her hand.

"This might be somewhat frightening, just don't let go," she ordered.

"What would happen?" Holly asked.

"You could lose a body part," Harry mumbled, eyes unfocused, whizzing round the room. "Or your mind."

The professor looked confused, but shook it 'way. "Correct, Mr Potter." She frowned. "Knowing that, I encourage you to hold onto _someone_."

Harry sounded a slight '_puff_' of breath out of his nose, like a little kid being asked did he know what 2 and 2 was by an adult.

Holly felt a little irritated. This was new to _her_- why couldn't he just let her enjoy it?

Then it struck her. He probably knew all this because of his parents- the ones who'd ignored him and caused him to run away. He was probably being plagued by memories. Scottie had said he'd had a brother, who his parents loved so much more. Perhaps he was trying to show he was as good as this brother?

She winced. She sure hoped they didn't meet Harry's family in this 'Die Dragon Alley'.

Reluctantly, Harry took Holly's arm. Holly looked at the ground. Why couldn't he have just taken the teacher's?

Maybe he'd known this woman in his past life. Maybe she'd disregarded his existence, too.

Hesitantly, she asked, "Ma'am, do you know any Slithirins?"

Harry's head whipped up. She didn't meet his gaze.

The professor looked troubled. "Slytherin?"

Not noticing the difference of its spelling, Holly nodded. "Harry's one."

McGonagall stared. She stared into his green eyes, they just the colour of the crest of her least favourite house.

"There hasn't been a recorded Slytherin in for over fifty years," she said, perturbed.

"Oh," Holly said, disappointed. "Oh."

She sneaked a glance at Harry, but looked away, startled by the smugness in his eyes.

0oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Holly was just as disappointed when they arrived outside a bad-smelling pub with the name 'The Leaky Caldron'. They were behind the pub, in a small, walled off courtyard with a dustbin. There was a newspaper, scrunched up, but visible, sticking out at the top. Holly watched in slight wonder as the pictures moved. But that seemed to be the most magical part of the yard. "Is this it?"

Harry was smiling. Properly so. "No, see that wall?"

Holly gave an incline of her head, waiting for him to explain further. He didn't.

The professor, taking her wand (Holly still couldn't wait to get her own) and tapped a specific brick on the wall. "Three up, and two across," the woman said under her breath.

Holly blinked. Was she surrounded by lunatics? She hoped not.

To her surprise, the wall went in a small hole first but formed a large archway, like in a movie.

"_Wow._"

0oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

**Redone 29/10/14.****  
**

- **Kaleidoscope.**


	2. Preparations

**Chapter Two- Preparations:**

Holly gasped, from behind him.

Harry almost wished he had eight more eyes... There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, regardless of Tom's wide knowledge- times had changed- windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

"It's beautiful," Holly whispered beside him. Oh yes. He had nearly forgotten she was there.

"It is," he agreed. Indeed, it was just as strangely divine the last time he had visited, what felt like so many years ago. A smile tugged at his lips.

He felt Holly look at him. "Where your parents wizards?"

"Of course," Harry scoffed, ignoring the fact that he _practically_ had a muggle for a mother. "And, as I know you will ask, my previous family's name was not Slithirin. Slithirin is mine, and only mine, as I am its heir."

Holly kept looking. Then she shuddered and looked away.

"I believe your mother was a witch," he said, conversationally. His eyes left her, distractedly flicking to different shops and people. Holly knew he was mocking her.

"Really?" She fell for the bait knowingly.

"Yes, but your father was a muggle. That's why your aunt called you those names, you're not a pureblood witch."

"Oh," Holly said again. "Is that bad?"

"To some. I'm…" He struggled to get it out. "A half blood, too. My mother was a witch born from muggles."

"Okay," Holly said. Harry noticed she sounded relieved. "How did you know my mother?"

"Banks, right?" She agreed. "My godfather had a cousin called Marie Black, but she was disowned for marrying a muggle. She changed her name to Banks and moved to the muggle world."

"So that's why mum never mentioned my other family. Because they _weren't_ family." She looked at him, curious. The words came out, insensitively, without her consent. "What was your old family's name?"

His eyes went cold again, and he mimicked her. "That's why no one ever mentioned my other family. Because they **_weren't_** family."

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Harry had dragged her over to a grotesque looking creature, which he called a goblin. She hung back, awkward.

"She needs a blood test," he demanded. The, more politely so, "please, sir."

The goblin nodded stiffly. It put a piece of paper in front of her, and she blinked, clueless. She was a little worried. She had a fear of blood, ever since she had watched it flow from her mother's impaled chest in the hospital. She shuddered a little, but didn't cry, even as the strange creature took a needle and pricked her finger with it.

The blood dropped onto the paper, and, like ink, formed the words-

**_Black _**

**_Sadrin (Falls)_**

"Why isn't there anything for Black?"

"Pureblood is prominent, and most Black marriages are between cousins- until recently. But if you are a Black, you most likely have some Malfoy blood," said the goblin. "Would you like the Falls and Black Master Keys?"

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Lily Potter led her son through the throngs of fans. She was tired. Exhausted, really. The first questions were alright, the average "how does it feel to be the mother of a hero?" Then, as usual, it strayed towards the other Potter boy. "Is it true Harry James Potter was abused under your care?" No. "Is it true that you starved him?" No. "Is it true you neglected him?"… Yes.

Al was quiet. Dumbledore had long since handed him the role of being the sympathetic-brother. The man had hammered it into his head that his speech was that he had loved Harry, helped him, but Harry had been too arrogant to believe it, and so had run away.

Al wondered what Harry was doing now. He was probably homeless, Alius guessed. Hungry, thirsty, cold. Unlike Al, who had loosened his belt and had his mother redo his sun-defier charm.

Al had received his real Hogwarts letter two days ago, and now it proudly hung in a diamond-encrusted gold frame (_Thanks 'I-am-your-number-one-fan!'_). Harry would be starting that year, too. If he was alive. Dumbledore seemed to doubt it. He had told the family that there was no 'Harry Potter' on the school registration list. Harry had been down to go to Hogwarts since Birth. It made no sense to Al. Harry couldn't have died. Harry was strong, Al knew that, albeit grudgingly. He couldn't just _die_. There was no funeral. Lily raved on about how she'd know it her little boy was… _gone. _And James said the register must have been wrong.

James had, with Dumbledore's aid, fought for a position as D.A.D.A professor. Sirius had laughed, saying how James had beat Q-Q-Quirell by a longshot. The other man, upon receiving his letter of rejection, had profusely cursed without his regular st-st-stutter. And he hadn't even opened his mouth. The messenger had found it frightening, but Sirius had been rolling around on the floor at the knowledge.

Quirell, though beaten and in stupor, had managed to grab the job of 'DADA Class-Helper". He was the first one to ever earn the title in Hogwarts. It wasn't much to be proud of, though. It just made you the dung-cleaner/example-shower (Ouch)/ He-Who-Shall-Help-Clean-Up. James really just felt sorry for the man at this point.

Lily had nabbed the role of Muggle-Studies Professor, after Professor Burbage had decided to become even more pro-muggle and was now unemployed (by choice) and helping muggles using magic, though the muggles were completely unaware. Her aim was to show wizards that they could live properly alongside muggles, without prejudice. James had last heard that she was a famous gardener now ('Charity Gardening- "I work Miracles!"'). He wasn't surprised, she had always loved Herbology.

Sirius had failed to gain a job at Hogwarts, and Remus thought himself too much a danger to the students to dare try. But Dumbledore had requested that Sirius, as a high-level Auror, come to Hogwarts to keep an eye on Al. Sirius seemed ecstatic- no preparing/assigning/correcting homework! "Works for me," he'd exclaimed. Al had been pleased, if only a little embarrassed. "Just know that I'm not going to call you 'Mum' in class, 'k?" He'd told Lily, blushing red.

Fawkes had brought the Hogwarts letter. It was a magical moment, and even James had cried a little.

His little boy was growing up too fast. Chubby cheeks and baby fat were vanishing, and Al never called him 'Daddy' anymore. The child had called him by his first name once, which James thought worthy of reprimanding. "I'm Dad, okay, Al? I'll always be Dad," he'd assured the unsure boy.

Al was a handsome young boy. His auburn hair was as unruly as James', brown eyes as lively as Lily's. He was thin from training, but not skinny, as that wouldn't do. He was tall, for his age. Just below his mother.

He hated having to fuss over him so much. As if Alius was two. The poor kid was probably just waiting for some responsibility, some freedom… but he'd be waiting a long time. And James wanted to help make that time more endurable. That Nimbus 1999- Al's. Of course. The Hover-Me Pops- Al's. Anything for his son.

Now they were standing in the bookstore. Lily had dragged them in, and Al was ruthlessly complaining about why that had to start _there_. James couldn't help but agree with him. _Why Lily, why_?

"Dad, what do yah say about making a run for it," Al whispered conspicuously.

"Too dangerous," James shot back. "Your mother's watching."

And indeed, Lily was watching. Her eyes flipped from Al, to James, to the large bookshelf behind them- lingering more so on the shelf. She glided over, swooping up a pile of books at random.

"_My precious_," James mimicked in the background, but she took no notice.

She opened the first book- _"The Most Magickal Maraudery of All Mischief"_. She frowned. "I think this would be more your sort of book, James."

James blinked. "I have a sort of book?" He exhaled as the book hit him in the chest, hard, knocking the breath out of him. He grinned at the title. "Hm, maybe this won't be so torturous after all, Al."  
Al grunted in an _as-if_ fashion.

Ron poked his head out of a shelf, ears mushed between two large novels. "Hey mate!"

"Ron," Al said, relieved. "Thank Merlin."

"Look what I found, Al," Ron gestured to the book in his hands. Al glanced over and gasped.

"No way!"

"Yes way. '100 Amazing Manoeuvres for the Quidditch Lover".

"I thought it was out of print!"

Ron smiled. "Remember you said in an interview that you wanted it?"

Al nodded, beaming. "They redid it," he guessed excitedly.

"They did," said Ron. "It even has a paragraph devoted to you in the Introduction!"

"Woah!" Al said. He picked up two copies and brought them to the till, handing the assistant six galleons. He handed Ron the second book.

"No way," Ron argued. "You didn't have to get me this."

"I know."

Ron's face broke into an enormous smile. "Thank you so much, mate."

Al just smiled back. It's nice to be famous.

0oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Holly watched as Harry's facial expression went from pure awe at the books surrounding him to absolute loathing in less than a minute.

"What's wrong?" She asked. His gaze snapped to her, and she shuddered under the glare. This boy scared her. She could readily confess it.

"_Them,_" he hissed, staring at the two red-heads behind the shelf in front of them.

"Them? What's wrong with them?" Holly didn't understand. The brown-eyed red head had simply given his friend a gift. Was this bad?

Harry seemed to remember his company, and swallowed loudly. "I used to know them," he said shortly.

"Oh," Holly said. She gulped. "Family?"

He grimaced, not answering for a moment. "Not anymore."

"I understand," Holly said, trying to comfort the troubled boy. He didn't appreciate it, though, and threw her a blazing glower. Surprised, and admittedly a little afraid, she took a long step back and bumped into the shelf, sending the shelf and herself down. She dizzily pushed herself up to find a family staring down at her.

0oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

"Are you alright dear?" Lily asked, staring at the girl lying under some books. She looked dazed. The girl had short brown hair, pale skin, and blue eyes that were confusedly looking up at her.

"Hu wuh," she muttered. Clearing her throat, she said an ashamed, "sorry."

"Smooth, Miss Banks," came a voice from behind them. Lily twisted her neck to get a look at the girl's friend. She stiffened- he looked so much like Harry. Black, scruffy hair, jade green, scrutinising eyes. Al was handsome, but this boy was pretty. Recognition pounded in her heart.

"H-Harry?" Lily stuttered. She heard James drop his book, but focused on the boy before her.

The girl, scrambling to her feet, a cherry shade of red, cocked her head is curiosity. Lily ignored her, too.

"That would be my name," the boy said vaguely.

"_Harry,_" James said, equally wordless.

Al look befuddled. "Harry?"

"Holly, I believe we should go. I think we're scaring these… _nice_ people."

The girl, Holly, looked like she was desperate to say something, but held it back.

"Harry… Potter?" Al questioned, as none of his parents could say it.

The boy's eyes were cold when he looked at them. "No. Harry Slithirin."

And he left.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

"Do you have all your books?" He asked Holly. "I apologize for leaving so abruptly, you needn't have followed."

Holly ignored the fact he was back to speaking like Jane Austen. "Where… where they your parents?"

"No more," he said again. "The past remains the past, regardless of its links to the future."

Holly didn't ask what he was quoting. She didn't say anything, even as McGonagall brought them to the Magical Menagerie- the place of her dreams- she kept her mouth shut. Until…

"I'd like that one," she said. She'd been smiling at the barn owl as it hooted some sort of tune.

"Ah, the Singing Owl," the manager said, smiling too. "Rare. A regular Barn Owl mated with a Musical Mowt, forming this lovely owl. 10 galleons."

She handed over her money.

Harry was kneeling in front of a shadowed cage. Holly laughed a little, just five minutes earlier he'd been complaining quietly about the store's lack of snakes. The owner had been shocked.

She peeked over his shoulder to see him in what looked like a deep conversation with a small black kitten.

"How much?" He said loudly. The owner shuffled over, hurriedly.

"Oh," he said, surprised. "She spoke to you?"

Holly was a little bewildered at that. Speaking Cats? Musical owls, maybe, but cats that talked?

"Yes, quite obviously," Harry said, annoyed.

"It's just odd. She's a young kneazle, you know. Kneazles bond to their owners, and usually only ever find one suiting. Hers died when she was only five months old. Most kneazles let themselves die after their partner dies. I suppose she knew you were coming?"

"What's her name?"

"I don't know, the deceased man's brother dropped her off. He wasn't terribly conversational, he'd just been at the funeral."

"Ah." Then, "how much?"

"Twelve galleons."

Harry thrust them at the man, and scooped the cat out of her cage. She purred.

Holly had to hide her smile.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Harry had felt the pain radiating from the cat. It couldn't speak, not properly. But Kneazles let how they feel show to those they thought would listen.

_Hated. Ignored. Miserable. Shadowed. _

He'd chosen her because he knew how it felt.

Even if she wasn't a snake.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

McGonagall had somehow heard of what had happened in the first store. Her mouth had formed a stern line, and she was giving them a taste of the silent treatment.

Finally, she spoke. "This is Ollivanders, he will give you your wands." She then added, "Please try not to destroy this store, as well."

Harry had given her an innocent, apologetic smile. Holly didn't believe it for a second.

But the teacher's eyes seemed to soften. "Don't feel too intimidated, Mister Ollivander is a rather… mysterious man. Rather blunt."

Harry took in this information and politely thanked the woman. Holly wondered how he was such a good liar.

Upon entering the shop, she was surprised by its plainness. A shelve of boxes, boxes in piles, boxes on tables, boxes on the counter, boxes blocking the door. She had to guess that there were wands in the boxes, but she wasn't certain.

A man appeared from the shadows. He had frizzy white hair, silver eyes tinted with something odd, and a slumped posture.

"Ah, Mister Potter, Miss Black. I remember your parents' wands well…" Ollivander sighed, once McGonagall was out of hearing range.

"It's Slithirin, actually. And Banks." Harry said, sounding a little irked. "And I have no parents."

"I understand," Holly stifled a giggle at Harry's expression. The amount of times people had said that without knowing the affect it had on him in only a day… "Who would like to try first?"  
"Miss Banks may attempt it before I," Harry said, like the perfect gentlemen. Holly knew at this point that he just wanted to be able to analyse the situation before succumbing to it.

"Of course," the short man said, grabbing multiple boxes and placing them in front of her. "Try any- ah, the Chestnut with a Unicorn hair core, 12 inches."

Holly felt a bit silly as she shook the wand, and jumped back as Ollivander's hair went on fire.

"I'm so sorry," she garbled. "I didn't mean to-"

"Don't worry, the old man laughed, extinguishing his hair. "Happens all the time, that.

"Hm, perhaps… Ebony, Unicorn hair core, 11 inches."

The result was even more so humiliating, as the wand seemed to spontaneously combust. Harry was in direct range of fire, and didn't seem to appreciate the soot covering his face. He muttered to himself, "**_scourgify_**." The soot vanished.

"Maple and Dragonstring?" Ollivander tried. This wand was less disastrous, and only hosed them in some sort of green goo. Harry and Ollivander both used the scourgify charm, this time.

After several disastrous tries, Ollivander handed her a smooth, long wand. "Hm, Cedar and Unicorn hair. 12, and a bit, inches. Try this, dear."

Some red sparks emitted from the wand's tip this time. Holly just stared, but Ollivander looked joyously satisfied.

"Nine galleons, Miss Banks. Bendy, and for the strangely loyal. My father used to say 'you will never fool the cedar carrier'. Let us hope you prove us right."

Holly didn't question it, and took the wand gratefully. Now it was Harry's turn.

Oddly, Ollivander had Harry done within his first try.

"13 inches. Blackthorn wood, suitable to the warrior. Phoenix feather- capable of various arts. Stubborn. Known to act on its own accord." The wand-maker stopped. "Strange. The Phoenix I took its core from was brother to the one that granted your brother his fame, or so they all say. I gather you know the legend of the Brother Phoenixes."

Harry nodded, looking wary under a mask of nonchalance. "The first brother was born with golden feathers, and believed himself to be the better. He convinced many of it. But the second was born with wings of silver, and shunned for its plainness. One day, poachers attacked the nests. The first brother tried to flee, but his golden wings stood out among the cloudy skies, and he was shot down immediately. The second brother also began to fly away, and none noticed him, for his wings matched the skies. But he saw his family, so close to capture, and flew back to aid them. Of course, the foolish bird was shot down and killed immediately, for birds can't really protect their families against murderers, but they don't mention that in the kiddie books."

Ollivander smiled. "You will do great things with this wand, Mister Potter. It is your choose if you make them terrible, though they will be great."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said. Holly nearly thought she was imagining the respect in his tone.

"Good luck," the man said simply, as the two left the store.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

The pale skinned boy, with white-blonde hair, and bored grey eyes sat on the stool next to Harry. Other than which, Madam Malkin's was quiet. Holly was scowling.

"Are the two of you pureblooded?"

Holly didn't know how to answer but apparently Harry did. "Half-blooded, actually. My mother was a mudblood. My father was a blood traitor. Not terribly proud to call them 'parents', really."

Tom had told him how vital it was to befriend important families, such as the Malfoys.

"I assume you are Draco Malfoy?" Harry said.

"Yes." Draco drawled. "And I don't blame you. If my mother was a mudblood, I'd kill myself."

Harry smiled fakely. "Haven't resorted to that yet," he told the other boy. He dropped the bomb. "Just disowned them."

Draco's eyes widened in appreciation. "At least _you're_ not an idiot. Some buck-toothed mudblood came up to me and started _talking_ to me."

Holly wanted to give the mean boy a piece of her mind but noticed the sharp looks Harry was sending her. She huffed. No wonder the infamous Harry Slithirin would wanted such evil friends.

"Despicable, really," Harry said. "That they're allowed to attend Hogwarts. Like they're actually natural."

Holly decided Draco Malfoy was just Harry's type of person. They complimented each other.

"Quite," agreed the ferret-like boy. He looked pleased. "What are your names?"

"Harry Slithirin," Harry introduced himself. A darkness danced in his eyes, something like a mix of cheek and amusement. "I took the name from my ancestor, Salazar? Perhaps you've heard of him?"

Malfoy looked amazed. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "I've got to tell dad."

"And this is Holly Black. Her parents were disowned, but you can't blame her for having blood traitor parents. I assume she is rather disappointed in having such relatives."

Holly hated having to nod along to Harry's charade.

"Are you seriously related to Salazar Slytherin?" Malfoy blurted out.

"Quite, and I'd rather if you didn't tell the world," Harry said sarcastically.

"That's amazing," Draco said. He seemed to remember Holly's existence. "I suppose this makes us… second cousins?" Holly stared. "My mother was a Black. She mentioned your mother, once or twice. She got blasted off the Black wall. The spot's still smoking, mum says."

"Nice to make your acquaintance," Holly lied. Then the two went back to ignoring her, choosing instead to blather on about something called Quid-Ditch.

"What position are you?"

"Seeker," Harry said.

"Same," said Draco, grinning. "But Dad says I player better as a Chaser. I just prefer the freedom of seeking."

From the look in Harry's eyes, Holly knew he'd decided he rather liked this Malfoy fellow.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Al watched his mother gorge into a glass of Butterbear Float. She always ate ice-cream when she was upset.

"It was him," she kept saying. "Harry!"

Yes, Al _wanted _to say, but not our Harry. But he couldn't take away that spark of hope in her eyes. The newly ignited spark which he hadn't seen in years.

"S'okay, mum," he tried comforting her. Handing her a new plastic spoon- she had snapped her newest one. He threw the fourth broken spoon into a bin.

His dad didn't seem much better. He was sitting up straight, wide awake, but his eyes were closed and he was muttering to himself.

Stuff like, _Sirius, Harry, find, lost, now, lose, again, no, let it stop, Al, _he sighed.

"You okay, Dad?"

"No." James said flatly.

Al gave a mental shrug. He was used to his father's blunt attitude when he felt sad.

"Will you be okay?"

"Maybe."

"Is it about Harry?"

"Yes."

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

If Harry had heard such a conversation, he would have claimed them to be under the imperious curse.

And then he would have laughed. Because things were finally about Harry Potter, when that Potter was dead.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Tom sat beside Harry. The other boy was looking rather aggravated, as his new pet kneazle dominated the pillow.

Tom smirked. The kneazle reminded him of his old pet, Nagini. He vaguely wondered where she was now, and who important had she eaten.

"Tom, if we're sorted into different houses, what will happen?"

Tom doubted it. "I am a Slytherin. You are a Slytherin. How else would it work?"

"Holly could be a Hufflepuff," Tom could hear the grin on Harry's face. "Or, even worse, a Gryffindor."

"Let's hope for Hogwarts's sake she isn't," grunted Tom, though amused.

Harry smiled. Then it fell. "Tom, what if I don't end up in Slytherin?"

Tom was silent for a moment, and Harry looked at him hopefully. But this was shattered as Tom burst into laughter.

"Where else would you be?" He choked. "_Gryffindor?_"

Harry looked down. Almost… disappointed.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Holly was feeling rather exhausted. At an unspeakable time in the morning Harry had stuck his head in her door and yelled something incoherent about being an idiot and how she _must want_ to miss the train.

"Train?" She'd mumbled, wiping away a tear of drool in embarrassment. She rubbed her eyes. "But it's so _eeeaaaarrrllly_…"

She could practically hear Harry roll his eyes obnoxiously. She covered her ears theatrically when he slammed her door shut, grumbling under his breath.

_He's probably pranking you,_ said the evil, sleep-wanting part of Holly.

"Yes," she sighed, content, snuggling into her duvets again.

_Wait_, she jumped up,_ Harry Slytherin doesn't 'prank'…_

"Oh, bugger," she yelped, diving onto the floor. She scrambled to her feet and rushed over to her wardrobe. "Gotta… hurry…" She grabbed a yellow and white striped t-shirt and some grey trousers, which were relatively hole-less. She kicked on a pair of checker highlighter yellow and white sneakers, not bothering to tie the laces.

She stood at the doorway, only pausing for a second, pondering about the oddity of it all. And then she flew down the stairs and into the kitchen, grabbing her heavy trunk. She heaved it out the door and ran to the car, trunk bouncing along behind her.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

"Um, Harry?" She asked. They were sitting in the cab, an empty seat between them. Harry stared out the window, fascinated. Holly guessed he hadn't been in a car many times before.

"Hm," Harry hummed.

"What is Platform 9 and ¾?"

He laughed, turning his shadowed face towards her. "The area between 9 and 10."

"Yes, I know that," she said impatiently. "But there's not nearly enough space to have an extra platform, just slotted in there!"

"Yes there is."

She asked, intrigued, "How?"

"Magic," Harry said, voice filled with faux-awe.

"Very funny," she huffed, turning away from him. She heard him shift again and knew he'd turned to stare out the window.

"Quite."

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

"HARRY!" She yelled, skidding down the station, trunk bumping behind her. She was gasping for breath. "SLOW DOWN!"

"WE'RE GOING TO MISS THE TRAIN, YOU IMBECILE!" He shouted back, twisting and turning agilely through the crowd. She felt like a bear as she stumbled after him.

"DON'T CALL ME AN IMBECILE!" She cried out indignantly. Her aunt had called her such a thing, and she hated it. It also sounded stupid, coming from a fellow eleven-year-old's mouth.

"BAFFOON!"

She couldn't really argue with that, she thought, as she turned, just an inch from hurtling into a large, moustached man with a briefcase. "APOLOGIES!" She called back.

She could swear she heard Harry scoff from across the station.

She veered to a halt as Harry stopped abruptly in front of the column between 9 and 10, tumbling into him. He was propelled forward, and Holly nearly screamed as the wall seemed to swallow him. She knew she heard him laugh, and that scared her most of all.

"Oh, bugger," she swore. "Bugger. Green, green, bugger."

Someone behind her barked with laughter.

"Nice French," said a man. He had shaggy black hair, pale skin, and eyes filled with silent laughter.

The first thing Holly said was "You look like my mum". She went pink. Subtle, Holly, subtle.

The man didn't even blink. It seemed he was used to finding new relatives every other day. "Her name?"

"Marie Banks?"

"Marie? Hello, second cousin of mine." Holly could only nod.

"Are you Sirius Black? My friend Harry mentioned you." Friend? She cursed herself. Harry would kill her if he heard.

"Harry?" Black said, his interest sparked. He then shook his head. "For Hogwarts?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, you'd better get going. The train's due to leave," he checked his wristwatch. "- in thirty three seconds. Thirty two. Thirty one."

"Oh no!" Holly squeaked. "How do I get there?" She quizzed, a note of hysteria in her voice.

"I'll show you," he said. She looked over her shoulder briefly at him to send him a look of gratitude, but felt her mouth widen to form an 'O' when his arms shoved her into the wall. She kept from screaming, but only just…

… She never felt the impact. Slowly, she opened her eyes. She was at a new platform, filled with people in multiple coloured cloaks, such a violet, red, and green. They were waving to children, students, and friends as a brilliant red train began to disappear down the tunnel…

"Oh God!" Holly did scream this time. Taking a good grasp of her trunk, she raced, shoving mercilessly through the crowds. The doors were slowly closing. She was _so close_. She couldn't even hear the babbling of the throngs around her, just the sharp claps of her feat upon the stone floor.

She jumped, clutching onto the door in one hand, and her trunk in the other. Her trunk had opened, and books were spilling out. The doors shut. She tearfully sat down on the ground, when a dinging noise made her look up. The doors were opening.

"_**Accio Holly's books,**_" came a quiet voice.

She stared as Harry handed her a pile of school books, nonchalant and expressionless.

"Try not to lose them," he told her, disappearing again.

_"No doubt to be with that Malfoy snob,"_ she muttered to herself, uneasily dismissing his aid.

She picked herself up, and stored the spilled books back in her trunk. It's a pity the wizarding world doesn't have receipts, she thought mournfully, staring loathingly at the defenceless trunk.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

"Why, hello!" The red-haired, skinny girl said cheerfully. "Lookie, mates, another compartment pal!"

"Calm down, Suzie," said another girl, amused. She turned to face Holly, unruly blonde hair flipping with her head. "I'm Meg Jones," she smiled. "'N' that maniac's Suzie Bones."

"I'm Darcy," introduced the dark haired girl with dark blue eyes. "Darcy Burke."

"Holly Banks," Holly smiled a little. "Can I sit here?"

"Sure!" Suzie said enthusiastically.

Darcy snorted. "Sorry 'bout Suze, she'd a bit hyper. Her aunt's told her all about Hogwarts, and she's real hyped up for it now."

"Her aunt?"

"Amelia Bones. She's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." At Holly's look of befuddlement, she said, "like a high pole-eece man."

"Oh," Holly said, going red.

"Don't worry! There're plenty of Muggle-Borns at Hogwarts, they won't know much either," Suzie said with a grin.

"Suzie!" Darcy said, but her mouth tightened a bit.

"I'm a half-blood," Holly put in worriedly.

Darcy's smile loosened, becoming real. "We're all purebloods, but that doesn't mean much anymore. Just that we interbreed like cats."

Holly scooted away a little at the amusement in Darcy's eyes.

"Darcy wants to be a Slytherin," Suzie said in a conspiring tone. "That's why she can be so scary."

Holly giggled. She somehow had memories of conversing about these things before. She ignored the thought and let herself get engrossed in conversation with the three girls. It was nice to have friends, she thought to herself, smiling.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Harry was having a rather intelligent conversation with a certain Draco Orion Malfoy, to his great surprise. Once the boy got over his 'My Father' obsession and obvious envy to others he was a rather interesting character.

"I don't believe father when he says I should marry Parkinson. She's disgusting," Draco admitted, and Harry grinned.

"'Cos you like Greengrass, don't you?"

There was a snicker in the background. Draco went red. "N-no. What makes you think so?"

"The fact that we've been talking about her for fifteen minutes, and you immediately think of marriage?"

The pale boy blushed. "Oh, bugger off Harry."

"Oh? Alright, I'll just find another compartment-"

"NO!" Draco said, obviously worrying about what 'Father' would think if he let such a prestigious figure slip through his hands.

Harry smirked. "That's what I thought."

"Prat," grumbled Draco.

"Quite," said Tracey, dryly. "Rather like you, 'Drakie-Poo'."

"Don't start," Draco hissed. "We're only eleven- it's like she expects me to get down on one knee _today!_"

Blaise chuckled, the first sound he'd made the entire trip. His head snapped up. "What was that?"

Everyone put a hand to their ear.

"Oh no," Draco groaned, as a snobbish croon of _Drakie-Pooooo_ echoed through the halls.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Al had hugged his mother goodbye, knowing he'd see her soon.

"I'm… just… so… _proud!_" She cried, gripping onto the sleeves of his shirt with her taut fists, as if she wasn't going to Hogwarts as well.

"Make us proud, kid," his dad sniffed, clapping his shoulder. "See you there."

"And," Al looked at the ground, before staring hopefully up at his parents. "Maybe I'll see Harry?" It was half a question.

And it sent Lily off in a new waterfall of tears.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

"Any luck with your brother?" Ron asked. Being Al's best friend, it was Ron's job to help Al out. And Ron knew how important one's brother can be to you. Especially when they leave.

"No," Al sighed. "Percy stopped being a prat?"

"Nah, didn't expect him to. The day he laughs is the day Fred dies." Ron said morbidly. **(A/N-** _**So true, Ron, so true T-T**_**)**

"That's depressing," Al commented.

"About as much as it can be, seeing we've both practically lost a brother within a year. Did you know that Bill and Charlie are planning on both moving out? It's horrible."

Al nodded. "Ironically, Padfoot's literally moved in to our house. He's sleeping in this _tiny_ room."

"Why?" Ron asked. Al never flaunted his parents' money, but Ron knew the Potter's were rich.

"The only decent sized room left is… _was_… Harry's."

"Oh," Ron said. He looked down. "Sorry, mate."

"S'okay."

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Canary Cream

Caramel Cobwebs

Cauldron Cake

Charm Choc

Choco-Loco

Chocoballs

Chocolate Frog

Cockroach Clusters

Drooble's Best Blowing Gum

Exploding bonbons

Fainting Fancies

Fever Fudge

Fizzing Whizzbees

Fizzy Wizzy

Fruit Rock

Fudge Flies

Ginger Newt

Glacial Snow Flakes

Goodwin's Chocolate Extravaganza

Green Apple Strips

Gummy Worms

Hiccough Sweet

Ice Mice

Liquorice Wand

Nautious Jumping Snakes

Orange Slices

Pepper Imps

Peppermint

Peppermint Toad

Canary Cream

Caramel Cobwebs

Cauldron Cake

Charm Choc

Choco-Loco

Chocoballs

Chocolate Frog

Cockroach Clusters

Drooble's Best Blowing Gum

Exploding bonbons

Fainting Fancies

Fever Fudge

Fizzing Whizzbees

Fizzy Wizzy

Fruit Rock

Fudge Flies

Ginger Newt

Glacial Snow Flakes

Goodwin's Chocolate Extravaganza

Green Apple Strips

Gummy Worms

Hiccough Sweet

Honeydukes Dark Chocolate

Honeydukes Mice Pops

Honeydukes Mix

Ice Mice

Licorice Snap

Liquorice Wand

Nautious Jumping Snakes

Orange Slices

Pepper Imps

Peppermint

Peppermint Toad

Pumpkin fizz

Pumpkin Pasties

Salt Water Taffy

Sherbet lemon

Shock-o-Choc

Skeletal Sweets

Spindle's Lick'O'Rish

Sugar Hexes

Sugar Mice

Sugar Quill

Sugar Straws

Sugared Almonds

Sugared Butterfly Wings

Sugared violet

Ton-Tongue Toffee

Tooth Splintering Strong Mints

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Oh, how he'd missed them. Harry smacked his lips, totally out of character as he wolfed down a chocolate frog.

"Yum," said Draco, crunching down on one himself.

Tracey snorted, mimicking them, "nom nom nom." She stuck her green tongue out at them.

Harry, feeling more relaxed and in his element than he'd ever before, copied the action with his own purple one and found himself truly laughing.

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Holly had to admit, wizarding candy was amazing. She wordlessly nodded her approval as Suzie, Meg, and Darcy giggled at her response to the lovely sweets.

"It's so good," she swallowed.

If Suzie hadn't been hyper before, she certainly was now.

"I know right I remember the first time I had some chocolate frog and it jumped out the window and began hopping away and I said "no froggie don't go!" and summoned it and then I ate it and then I cried 'cos I ate it and it was innocent and I'd tricked it and I felt real bad but then I ate another at my friends' house 'cos she said they weren't actually real so I felt better about it 'cos it didn't know I was gonna eat it wait that sounds bad is that bad? I don't know and then I told my friend I was a murderer and she said I was 'cos I'd killed a bumblebee at her place once but I didn't mean to so that makes it okay but I really love bumblebees with their cute fuzzy yellow and black striped faces it's like they're tigers of the sky and they must be really noble I mean I hate wasps they sting you and live so they do it again but bees die after they sting you so they must be really brave and since they can only sting once it must be really romantic someone should make a bee romance film it would be so cute and I'd love it I just know it-"

Darcy stuck her hand over her friend's mouth. "No more sweets," she chastised.

"But I love sweets sweets are awesome they taste so good Darcy and some melt in your mouth some taste like vomit some taste like chocolate wait is chocolate a sweet oh my Merlin –God for you, Holly- then why is there a chocolate flavour my childhood is ruined!"

"Silencio!" Yelled Darcy. Suzie's mouth kept moving but no words escape it. She didn't seem to notice, and continue to babble on soundlessly. Holly giggled.

Then she was struck with a small fear. What if she was horrible? What if she was worst in the class? _Year?_ What if they expelled her because she was so bad at magic? There had to be so many people who'd grown up with magic and knew _lots_! In fact, a girl with bushy brown hair had come in asking for a toad, bragging about how many books she had read and how she had memorised everything!

Holly closed her eyes. She'd never even opened the textbook.

Darcy seemed to notice her anxiety, reading her mind. "Don't worry. The Muggle-Born has never done anything practical, and that's the important thing. Knowing the spell but being unable to cast it is useless.

"I only know simple house spells," Meg put in. "And charms to shut these two up."

Though she couldn't hear Suzie's input, she had no doubt that it was equally as kind as Darcy and Meg's comfort.

"Thank you," she said. She smiled, properly this time. "Thank you."

"No prob'," Meg smiled. Suzie seemed to have calmed down, so she removed the silencing charm.

Suzie immediately reached in to hug her, and Holly stiffened. She slowly loosened her muscles, and accepted it with a beam. Suzie extended a spare arm and grabbed onto Darcy and Meg, and they formed a group hug.

"Well," a snotty voice came. It was the bushy haired nerd from earlier. "I'd say you should start getting changed. We're nearly there. What a first impression to be seen in _that!_"

As she slammed the door, the girls parted. For a minute there was silence.

Then there was laughter.

"My goodness," gasped Meg through her laughter. "What a bat! She'll rival McGonagall, that one!"

"Mm," agreed Suzie, licking her dry lips. "Though I do wish you didn't use those dreadful spells on me! My lips resemble the Sahara Desert!"

"Lovely," Darcy grumbled. "Thanks for the visual."

Suzie grinned toothily. "No problem, _pal_," she elbowed the dark haired girl sharply.

"Of course, _bud,_" Darcy kicked her shin.

If Holly had seen such a thing between anyone else, she would've been inclined to try stop the two. But, as it was, she could only smile as the two bickered. It took all of her to keep herself from sighing in relief- not only had she made friends, but the sort that wouldn't abandon or judge her. She thought of Scottie for a moment, and all the other orphans back at Wool's.

"You okay, Hols?"

She looked up, and smiled. "Yeah. All is good."

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

**"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."**

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

"Sweet tooth," sneered Draco, but there was slight laughter in his eyes as Harry stuffed sack-fulls of candy into the small, charmed bag he had clipped onto his robes.

Harry nearly smiled himself. He handed Draco a Sugar Mouse as compromise. "Tell no one of my weakness," he made the other boy promise.

"I swear on your mightiness, oh great one," hummed Draco, a tail sticking out from the edge of his mouth.

"Tail," pointed Harry, tone wry. "And…"

Tracey giggled. She unzipped a small purple bag from beside her and rummaged through it, removing a mirror. She thrust it in front of Draco, fighting a grin.

Draco groaned, rubbing at the enchanted no-go lip gloss that would take a forever to wash away.

He turned, then, hopeful, to see Harry snickering slightly, into his hand. When he saw the others looking, he quickly turned it into a cough. But he still smiled.

"Come on," said Tracey, sticking her head out the door. "We'd best go now, before the corridors become thronged."

"Or more so," agreed Harry, stepping out of the compartment. The older students jostled past them, as the train slowed. Tracey, Blaise, Draco and Harry found each other pressed against one another until the crammed halls subsided.

"Where do we go?" Tracey mumbled, as the group stepped off the train and into a dark, dusty old platform. She was shivering slightly. Harry could understand that. The air was cold, and the platform itself seemed eerie in the unlit night.

"What a welcome," muttered Draco. But Harry was pleased by the lack of 'I should tell my father about this'.

"What is _that?_" Blaise marvelled, as a beaming lamp began bobbing over the heads of higher pupils.

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here! All right there, Al?"

Harry craned his head, and smirked as a rather unnerved Alius gave a weak smile to the hairy man with the light.

"Fine, Hagrid!" He replied with a tight voice.

Harry fought himself from staring. Tom had mentioned him, once or twice. A half-giant, betrayed by his school and expelled, finding refuge as the gamekeeper. The huge man was smiling jovially, bushy beard a bounce as he walked, but there was a certain sadness in his eyes.

"C'mon, follow me- any more fir'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years follow me!"

Draco swore under his breath as he slipped on the steep, narrow path they were following Hagrid down.

"Blasted oaf," he grumbled as Harry threw a quick '**_scourgify_**' at his muddy shins. "How have you not taken a fall yet?" He asked, appraisingly, as he, Blaise, Tracey and at least half of first year were sporting skinned knees, though their charmed robes remained in perfect condition.

"A steadying charm," he said simply.

"Help?" Pouted Tracey, and, within a roll of the eyes and a spell off the tongue, she thanked him. She cursed Draco as he attempted to shove her over, grey eyes wide with wonder, but laughed when he toppled over from the force of the charm.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder. "Jus' round this bend here."

"Oooooh!" The first years goggled.

"It's… nice," admitted Draco gruffly.

They had come to the end of the difficult path, to face a magnificent, great black lake. Beyond it, high atop a mountain, was an enormous castle, with tall walls, high turrets, and windows sparkly brilliantly from the magical aura.

"Very," nodded Blaise stiffly, even more so wordless than usual.

"No more'n four to a boat," Hagrid called, shattering the silence. He jabbed a large finger in the direction of a small fleet of wooden boats. Tracey, Draco and Blaise accompanied him onto the one Harry hoped to be the safest. He saw Holly in the distance, boarding a boat and closely followed by the Jones, Bones and Burke heirs.

"Is this… safe?" Asked Tracey with a question they all were considering.

"Welcome to Hogwarts… 'Where child endangerment is _totally okay_'** (A/N- does anyone know who I'm quoting?**)"

"Everyone in?" Shouted Hagrid, as he fitted himself quite nicely into his own boat. "Right then- FORWARD!"

Immediately the group of little boats being floating across the still waters. Mesmerized, Harry let his hand glide behind him in the water.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you," Tracey said, and by way of explanation, she added, "Giant Squid."

As the cliff on which the castle lay neared, the school became clearer. It was magnificent, Harry thought, awe-stricken.

"Heads down!" Yelled Hagrid as the cliffs became too close for comfort. Harry and his… _friends_ (he kept a somewhat giddy smile off his face) ducked their heads, though looked up to catch a glimpse of the beautiful curtains of ivy they were passing through. The boats carried them through yet another dark tunnel, leading them right under the castle, until they reached a small, quaint Harbour. It was empty, except for a large, old, holey ship, which Harry identified as 'The Hogwartsian Waves', an ancient boat long forgotten but for the book, Hogwarts: A History.

Harry clambered out first, unto the rocky land. He gave his hand to help the rest of his boat, and coat the respecting look that Hagrid sent him.

A _good _way to start, Harry realized. He had to be 'Good'. He'd gain trust, respect, and allies from acting such. His planning was interrupted as Hagrid's voice came-

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" Hagrid asked, checking the boat which a somewhat chubby blonde boy had just leaped out of.

"Trevor!" The boy cried, cupping his hands receive his pet.

Then the year climbed up a passageway, leading to an area before the castle, on smooth, damp grass. They followed Hagrid up a flight of steep stairs, and stopped before a large oak door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" The big man asked. At Neville's nod, he clenched a giant fist and gave three, loud rumbling knocks onto the caste door.

A tall witch with short black hair and emerald green clothing opened it second after.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid told her.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

Harry peeked past her, and into the Entrance Hall behind her. It was big, the size of a common muggle house, with flaming torches decorating the stone walls. The ceiling was high above them, and a marble staircase led up to another floor.

Professor McGonagall led them across the hall, and Harry could heard muffled voices behind the walls. The others had obviously arrived by now. He listened carefully, for a hint on what might face them in this next room. All he heard was how hungry they all were.

She took them past the room, and into a small empty chamber. The year hardly fit, and Harry couldn't turn his head without bumping into Padma Patil, who was behind him. He sighed.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, the start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. "

She then proceeded to tell them about the houses, from which Harry proceeded to zone out. He knew Hufflepuffs were kind and hard-working, Gryffindors brave and instinctive, Ravenclaws wise, and Slytherin sly and smart. He understood from Tracey, who had an older brother called Treason Davis in Slytherin, that success in class and activities resulted in house points, but trouble lost you them. By the end of the school year, the house with the most points was awarded the House Cup.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Harry rubbed his nose, forgetting the lack of glasses. 'A weakness' Tom had snapped, sending them flying off his face. Some advance spells of Tom's own creation had been placed on his green orbs. They would last a year, at least. Ooddly enough, his eyes felt more so vulnerable afterwards.

Planning on making a good first impression, he smoothed his robes and conjured a comb for his unruly hair. Padma took a step back, giving him just enough room.

"Impressive," Draco teased, as Harry's hair fought back.

"It looks nice enough as it is," Tracy told him. "Forget combing it." She waved to the Fat Friar, who was floating around students. Harry snorted a bit as the bushy haired Muggle-Born gasped at the ghosts.

"Move along now," McGonagall said sharply, from the entrance of the room. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Excitedly, the ghosts dived through walls, heading joyously for the Great Hall.

"Now form a line, and follow me." She said, taking them out of the chamber and through the double-doors of the great hall. Thousands of candles hovered above four long tables, where students sat, eyes focused on the incoming first years. Golden plates and goblets lay unused on the tables. Teachers sat up front, at another long table. McGonagall led them towards it, and they stood at the top, facing the higher years. The black ceiling shone with stars.

The strict woman placed a three legged stool in front of them, and popped a pointed wizard's patched up, old-looking hat on top of the stool.

It twitched, paused, and a mouth-like thing on it burst open and belted out in song-

_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_  
_Your top hats sleek and tall,_  
_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_  
_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_  
_The Sorting Hat can't see,_  
_So try me on and I will tell you_  
_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
_Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_  
_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
_Where they are just and loyal,_  
_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
_if you've a ready mind,_  
_Where those of wit and learning,_  
_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
_You'll make your real friends,_  
_Those cunning folks use any means_  
_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
_And don't get in a flap!_  
_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Everyone began clapping loudly and enthusiastically, though when Harry used slight legilmency he saw all they were thinking of was _food_, and the hat bowed, then stilled.

Professor McGonagall stood up, a long sheet of parchment in hand, and told them to come when called, to sit on the stool, and to put the hat on.

'Abbot, Hannah' was first, then Holly's friend 'Bones, Suzan' who bounded up to the stool as if in a race. Holly's name was called 'Holly Black' rather than Banks, and to Slytherin's surprise, she got Hufflepuff. Harry couldn't wait for Tom's reaction. Time ticked on, and more names were called. Bushy-head got into Gryffindor, with Weasley and Neville. Of Holly's friends, Bones and Jones made Hufflepuff, while Burke got Slytherin. Draco was quickly put in Slytherin, with Tracy, and was followed by a 'Nott, Theodore'. And then…

"Alius Potter!"

"_Potter_, did she say?"

"_The_ Alius potter?"

Harry didn't think he imagined the call of 'Huff' before 'Gryffindor!', but kept himself from laughing out as Alius went red,

Quincy Rakridge… Dolly Rome… Mitchell Roxford… Cal Salsworth… Xander Satrin... and then…

"Slithirin, Harry!"

"**_Slytherin?_**" The Hall yell-whispered.

"Hm, difficult, veeery difficult… your smart, Mr Potter-"

_Not a Potter._

"I see. Stubborn. Impulsive. Brave… but not quite a Gryffindor. You are loyal… but not excessively so. You work hard for what you believe in, care for those you think deserve such a thing. But… no. I see. I must tell you now, Mr Potter, that Mr Riddle is not quite as he seems. But, for now, I will tell you something of more importance-

"**SLYTHERIN!**"

"We got Slytherin!" Yelled Marcus Flint, a mocking of the Weasley brother's earlier cry.

This woke the rest of the table, and they burst into applause. Harry slowly made his way down the hall, smiling lightly, though there was a look of triumph in his eyes.

He sat in between Tracey and Draco, and later Blaise took the seat across from him.

Tracey grinned, mimicking swiping a hat off her head and bowing. "Master Slithirin," she laughed. Harry laughed too. He decided he liked laughing.

"Lady Davis," he copied her, removing his invisible top-hat. She looked behind her and smiled again. "Lord Davis."

"Treason!" Cried out Tracey. It was clear she was itching to give him a huge hug, but knew others would think little of it. Her brother stuck out a hand, and she shook it happily.

"Treason! How's Delina?"

"Burke? She's fine," he was blushing, Harry noticed, confused. "Her sister's in your year. Darcy Burke."

"And August? And Altrie?"

"They're good."

"What up with siblings all having the same first letters in their names?" Harry muttered.

"Tradition, usually. Unless the family's more… modern."

Harry felt his eye twitch. Arry. Halius. The odds didn't seem good if his old family hadn't been modern.

Treason took a seat beside Blaise, who had just sat down.

"Zabini," he greeted. "How's your mother?"

"She's just gotten married. A month or two ago."

"Again? But what about Henry Alcott?"

"'Dead under suspicious circumstances'," Blaise recited, dryly, and the others exchanged looks like this was some sort of inside joke that had been going on for a while. "She's planned for the new one to 'go swimming' tomorrow."

Harry suddenly understood. Part of him wanted to get sick. Part of him wanted to laugh. He chose to laugh, quietly so.

Dumbledore- Harry listened to some harsh comments about him from Adrian Pucey under the alias Dumb-As-A-Door- stood, opening his arms wide, a beam on his face. Under the circumstances, Harry had to keep himself from smirking in slight amusement. Thiugh there was an edge to the smile._ Hate._

Then, the man in the wild robes called out, his voice echoing in the large hall, "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet-"

"Finally," Adrian Pucey sighed in relief.

"- I would like to say a few words."

_"Ugh_," Adeline Pucey moaned, slamming her head against the table.

Dumbledore did not so much as even look at the twins. "And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

"If he doesn't let us eat soon," Tracey began in a low tone. "I'll tell him right what a nitwit is…"

0ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo0

Having eaten more than he had ever in the orphanage, or perhaps even at home, Harry slipped off into a blissful daydream, ignoring Dumbledore's long speech about safety, and rules, and stuff Harry didn't particularly care for.

Something did catch his attention though. The Third Floor- Corridor to the right. Dangerous. Murderous. Mysterious. Harry heard Ron laugh in disbelief from the Gryffindor table, but he was the only one to do so. Alius had attempted a chuckle, but it had died out quickly.

Then, Dumbledore conjured up an animated ribbon from the tip of his wand to form some words. Lyrics, Harry realized.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song! Everyone pick their favourite tune!"

And then, to Harry's amazement, the entire school began singing-

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald,  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling,  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot._ "

The Weasley twins slowly droned on, after everyone had finished, to a slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their song cheerfully with his wand. "Ah, music," he wiped at his eyes, "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

Afterwards, Harry let the prefect, Marcus, to lead them down to their dorms in the dungeons, but he didn't let himself part from his friends before telling them, quite sombrely, "what a terrible song."

"Quite," said Draco with equal distaste.

"I don't want my brain to rot, Drakey!" Pansy cried, inconsolably.

"Don't worry Pansy," Harry said, smiling pleasantly at her. She blinked, cocking her head. Finally, she went with Tracey up to the girl's dorm. Only then he turned to Draco, "She'd need a brain, first."

He then took in his surroundings, which could be described within one monosyllable word: _green_.

"It matches your eyes," Tracey had said when he'd not be concentrating. Killing-Curse green eyes, people so often commented.

And Harry smiled.

* * *

**Redone 29/10/14****  
**

**- KOT.**


	3. Trust and Distrust

**~ First Year- Trust and Distrust~**

Harry waited for his friends in the common room, before breakfast. It was only around six in the morning, but Harry rarely slept. He wondered how he and Tom would remain in contact- Slytherins don't make habit of talking to Hufflepuffs.

He sat, crossed legged, on the green sofa. The book- 'To Fool Thy Clan'- lay open on his lap. He was half-reading it, and half stuck in thought.

"Harry?" Came Blaise's voice. The boy slouched down in the armchair opposite him. "You're up early," he stated.

"As are you," Harry pointed out. "And it's six oh three, that's late enough."

Blaise snorted.

"How's Malfoy?"

"Passed out on his bed. I think he's drooling."

"_Astoria, Astoria,_" Harry mimicked, earning a slight chuckle from Blaise.

"Pretty much," the taller boy admitted. "Why are you up?"

"I couldn't sleep. What about _you_?"

Blaise nodded, "same thing."

"Why?"

"Having a Mum who is likely to end up in Azkaban sometime soon does that to a guy," he said dryly. "You?"

Harry shrugged. Then, without his permission, his mouth opened and he blurted out, "I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

Again, the words escaped, "of being hated. And of being liked."

Blaise looked like he understood. "Yeah, we get that a lot in Slytherin. Being hated by all of the others houses… it sucks. But being liked by them? Slytherin might turn against you."

Harry nodded his head. "I just want respect," he confessed. "Friends didn't really occur to me until now."

"You don't choose your friends," Blaise gave a lop-sided shrug, "just don't call them that here. In Slytherin, they're your allies."

* * *

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to Blondie."

"With the green eyes?"

"Did you know?"

"Did you hear about him?"

Whispers followed him as he flew out the exit and towards the Great Hall.

"You'd think he's a celebrity," Draco said, appreciatively.

"Yeah," Blaise coughed. "Blondie."

Draco turned to glare at Blaise, but the dark-skinned boy was just laughing silently into his hand.

"Harry," he whined.

"Don't turn to me," Harry muttered. He stopped. "Are they still looking?"

"Um," Blaise started.

"Wait for it," Draco told him. "Three… two… yeah, they've stopped. For now."

"Good," Harry sighed, swishing 'round.

"Hey!" They called after him. "Where're you going?"

"Just a short detour," Harry said. "See you at class."

* * *

"I can't believe it," Tom was complaining. "A _Hufflepuff_!"

Harry snickered, but stopped under Tom's glare.

"Imagine waking up surrounded by _pink_."

"Don't you mean yellow?"

"No. They think it's too much of a stereotype, so the boy's dorms are blue and the girls have pink.

"Isn't that even more so stereotypical?"

Tom moaned. "Who knows? These are Hufflepuffs we're talking about. What classes will we even have together?"

Harry blinked. "Uh…"

"You didn't think to collect your schedule first, did you?" Tom shook his head, a look of disappointment in his eyes.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled sheepishly. "You said to come straight here," he said childishly.

"That I did," Tom's frown wavered. "But you didn't have to listen mindlessly."

"But…" Harry blustered, but he noticed a gleam in Tom's dark eyes. _Manipulation._ "But… but… you said…"

"I know what I said, Harry. But I don't want you to be just another brainless follower, alright?" Tom said sternly.

Harry's face broke out in a smile_. Fake._

"Eat up," Tom told him, biting into an apple.

"Won't they be suspicious that two first years have found the kitchens already?" He wondered, suddenly.

"Of course. We must be geniuses, Harry," Tom squealed in a high pitched, girly voice. Two House-Elves behind them jumped, and vanished.

"That was frightening," Harry said, uneasily. "Don't even try it again."

Tom smirked.

"There's just one more problem," Harry said, biting his lip. "The name 'Slithirin' isn't the most… inconspicuous name about."

"That it isn't," Tom agreed. "How bad is it?"

"People stayed in the common room just to stare at me."

Tom flinched. "Oh no."

"For two hours."

He closed his eyes for a moment, and exhaled tiredly. "Well, it's a good thing I had a plan B."

"You? Have a Plan B?"

"Yes, and it should make your aim to seem more likable a lot easier."

"Hey!"

* * *

"**_Accio my schedule_**," he tried, and it came whizzing towards him at a high speed. "_Oomph…"_

* * *

On his way to Transfiguration that morning, Harry had his kneazle, whom he had named Darke most originally, strewn across his shoulders. He was walking towards the staircase on the third floor, planning to catch one down to the floor below him. On his way he came across Alius and Ron, getting a talking-to from Filch. The rather creepy turbaned teacher managed to help them get away, and Harry was left to face Filch alone. Mrs Norris, the ruffled dust-coloured kneazle of Filch's, trotted over to him suspiciously.

Harry kneeled down, "hello sir," he said to the caretaker, while stroking the other feline whom Darke was surveying with calculating eyes. "You're cat's a beauty," he schmoozed.

"Thank you," the man said gruffly. "Is she your kneazle?" He asked, watching Darke with slightly smiling eyes.

"Yes, this is Darke." Harry introduced.

"Did she choose you?" Filch asked, distrusting. He patted the new kneazle, looking far more at rest than Harry had ever seen him.

"Her previous owner died a few months ago, and she chose me afterwards," Harry said, putting a sad look in his eyes. It wasn't faked.

Filch looked rather upset himself. "Brilliant creatures, them kneazles," he sniffed. "Mrs Norris even chose me… even though I wasn't…" He trailed off, letting the words _a wizard_ hang unspoken in the air. Strangely enough, Harry felt no hate for the non-magical being. This scared him. But also made him smile.

"Darke chose me, when my family didn't," Harry said. And he knew he had narrowly avoided getting on the caretaker's bad side as he descended the stairs, grinning slightly.

* * *

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." She flicked her wand, turning the desk before her into a pig and back.

Harry chuckled quietly at the look of excitement on Potter and Weasley's faces. They weren't going to be starting with _that_, Harry knew, but it was amusing all the same.

Then, he quietly began making notes. McGonagall spoke of the delicacy of Transfiguration Magick, explaining how easy it was to fail and how you needed to visualize exactly what you were making if you wanted to succeed. She then gave them each a match and told them to try and turn it into a needle.

Harry hid a smile. He remembered his detailed notes and 'twirl and flick'ed his wand, watching the edges sharpen and the match go silver.

Twenty minutes later, he was interrupted.

"Mr Potter, what are you doing?" McGonagall demanded, as he scribbled speedily into his notes journal. "Why aren't you doing the exercise I gave you?"

"Oh, I finished ages ago, Ma'am," he said, apologetically.

"It's still a match, Mr Potter," she sighed.

He let his eyes widen. "Oh, were we supposed to keep it a needle? Sorry!" He transfigured it back to a needle.

The professor too widened her eyes. She then, albeit a little warily for he was a Slytherin, proceeded to compliment the shades and the perfect sharpness to the edges.

"Oh," he said, just as class ended. The teacher turned. "Is this how you do it?"

He flicked his wand and the table was a pig.

* * *

Holly rested her head in her arms, sneaking a glance at Harry. How was he staying awake?

"Does anyone know who Elric the Evil was?" Even his voice was boring, Holly thought sleepily, dismissing the ghost.

Of course, the only person that answered was Harry. "Elric Don'Martin was a Foreign Wizard who became stranded in France in 1786..."

Suzie snored beside her.

"I'm so taking Slithirin's notes later," Darcy swore from in front of her, turning in her chair. "What the… how has he nine pages of notes already? Merlin's privates!"

Meg snorted. "I'm just gonna…" she yawned. "Catch some…" Yawn "ZZZs…"

Holly turned around again to see Slithirin's hand up again, and she copied Darcy's profanity.

* * *

"Are you coming to dinner this time?" Blaise asked, wryly.

"Of course," Harry said as-a-matter-of-factly. "Why wouldn't I?"

Draco and Blaise exchanged looks.

"Breakfast and lunch might lead one to think that," Draco said, looking back at him.

"I suppose so," Harry shrugged. "So, how do we get there again?"

"This way," said Blaise, walking ahead, a slight smile on his face.

* * *

"**_Sonorus,_**" he muttered, waving his wand appropriately. "**Hello,**" he said, with an easy smile. Almost too easy for one addressing a few hundred people.

The hall turned to face the strange boy with the effortlessly bellowing voice.

"I'm Harry, I suppose most of you know that. Seeing that I'm the new gossip in the hallways."

Some people wore guilty expressions, others remained indifferent.

"Mr Slithirin," Dumbledore started, twinkling eyes narrowing.

"But you don't really care all that much about my first name, do you? It's my surname. The one Dumbledore just yelled. Isn't it? Well, I've decided I'd rather be known for my actions, not for some old founder who is a few thousand years' old, thanks." Some smiles. "So, from now on, could you call me by my new name? Please, and thank you- call me Harry Riddle."

And he could swear Dumbledore's twinkling-charm faded at the words.

* * *

"Ah yes, Alius Potter… Our new- _celebrity_…"

Harry smiled from his seat two behind Alius. Tom had told him the little he could gather about Severus Snape. "_Has Eileen Prince's little-to-no looks_," Tom had grumbled. "_She was obsessed with me_." Harry guessed by the way the bat-like man was forever hiding his arms, the obsession was mutual.

Draco cracked a grin beside him, elbowing Harry as if to make sure he'd caught it. Harry, though unused to this, felt the edge of his mouth twitch.

"Harry Slithirin-Riddle?" Snape was quirking an eyebrow, slight amusement in his expression.

"Here, sir," Harry said, raising a hand.

"Quite the interesting name, Mister Riddle," the professor commented, before finishing the register.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he started, and Harry wondered how many times he had recited this little speech. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry nearly snorted. What a personality, he thought. Perhaps Potions wouldn't be so bad, after all.

Looking at Al, he understood the other boy was thinking the exact opposite.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Alius blinked. "Uh…"

"Tut, tut- fame clearly isn't everything."

He didn't acknowledge the muggle-born girl's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Alius looked desperately at the muggle-born girl, like she might actually have helped him. She harrumphed, turning her head. Clearly, Al had done something that irked her greatly.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter? What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Knowing Alius couldn't answer, and part of him childishly hoping to make a fool of the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry slowly raised his hand.

"Mr Riddle?"

"Asphodel and wormwood create the powerful sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death, sometimes when brewed weaker it is called the Knock-Out Draught. A bezoar can be found in the stomach of a goat and is known to reject most swallowed potions, and monkshood and wolfsbane are just different names for the plant aconite," Harry paused. "Sir."

"Correct, Mr Riddle," the professor stated, he turned back to Alius. "Ten points for your stupidity and cheek."

If possible, Harry's polite smile broadened. It remained that way all through potions, even as Longbottom's potion burned a hole in his bag.

* * *

"Did you hear about the Gringotts break-in?" Draco was saying in the background. Harry was in another world.

"Wow," he managed. Books. Wondrous, beautiful books. He stared, wide-eyed, in awe.

"Yes, Slithirin, books," Harry ignored Draco.

"There's so many- my Merlin, that section looks interesting."

_"__That _one?" Draco snickered. "Harry, that's the restricted section. No one's allowed in their without a professor's permission."

"Just watch me," Harry said, a somewhat arrogant tone in his voice.

He walked right up to Madam Pince. "Excuse me, Ma'am, I'm looking for books on the known wizarding families."

"I'm afraid those are in the restricted section, young man," the grey-haired woman said sternly. "For reasons of privacy."

"Oh, it's just…" Harry let out a defeated sigh. "Well, I'm sure you've heard the rumours, but I want to find out if the pronunciation of my surname is just a coincidence. I don't want people to judge me based on an infamous wizard."

"Oh, well," the woman flustered.

"Please, Ma'am. Everyone seems to hate Slytherin, I don't want them to hate me," he rubbed his eyes, as if to hide a tear.

"Fine, Mr Slith- Riddle," she exhaled, but an expression of pity was evident on her wrinkled face. "I trust you to only use this opportunity to find out your ancestry."

"Of course, Ma'am," he inwardly smirked at Draco's dumbfounded expression from across the library. "I have no interest in the Dark Arts, and that's just what I want to prove."

She led him over to the Restricted Section, tapping the rope barring their entry with her wand, and the rope fell.

"How well protected is this section?" Harry asked, curious.

"Well, you see those gargoyles?" The librarian pointed. "They'll screech if they see anyone coming. Disillusionment charms won't work against them. The ropes will tie themselves around the culprit, and will remain that way until a member of staff removes them."

"Ingenious," Harry breathed, for truth and for appearances. "What if one had an invisibility cloak?"

Madam Pince considered this. "My mother before me was the school's librarian. True Invisibility Cloaks are rare, and expensive. She doubted any of the students could afford or find a way to sneak one into the school. I'm not quite sure now, with the rowdy Potters and conceited Malfoys with their pots of gold."

Harry smiled at her, "thank you ma'am."

He walked over the rope- and then he was in a whole new world. He forgot about Madam Pince and Draco watching his back, he forgot about the stress pent up inside of him, he forgot about his fears, his worries. He just froze. He walked further in, feeling the atmosphere change. This corner of the library was darker; colder. Power hung in the air. He stroked the spine of a black book, chained to the wall.

"**_Muffliato,_**" he murmured. Then- "**_Bombarda!" _**at the chains. They burst open, having only been placed there to scare away the intruder, and he muttered **_"finite incantum_**".

A gargoyle whimpered slightly in the distance.

He picked up the book, surprised at its almost non-existing weight. He opened it, but the pages were blank. Interested, Harry placed the book inside his bag. He picked an Ancestry Book out (_Q-U_ ) and showed Madam Pince. He left the library and headed for the dorms, fascinated by what the book could be.

* * *

He sat on his bed, alone. He cast the spell he'd used on Tom's journal, but it didn't work.

He tried writing in it. It triggered nothing.

He tried to pull a page out, but found he couldn't.

Finally, he used the sharp edge of his quill to scar his index finger, and let the blood fall onto the page. A possibly stupid choice, but he was ready to risk it. He supposed he was just too curious for his own good.

Then-

**_"_****_Known Prophecies of Darkness, by Toran Trelawney_**_"_.

Harry blinked. Of all the Dark books he could have taken, he had brought back a book on Divination. But he was not one to judge a book by the cover. He turned the page.

_"__The Murderer of Hangleton; Released upon his home of Britain; Lacking love, and lacking soul; Born to hate, born to cold; Should he live heartless, unsaved, hated by his own; He shall ravage upon the lands, destroying what is home; But care could melt the heart of thine; Beware, for thou have little time"_

"**I killed my father**," Tom had said. "**I went to Little Hangleton, and killed him. I'll never regret it.**"

Harry forced himself to look at the paper, at the new words forming.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and forgotten to those that matter most… he will make the choice… to destroy the world or destroy himself… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..._"

Harry slammed the book shut.

* * *

Draco passed him in the common room, halting. "Harry, what are you writing? I thought you'd done all the homework."

"I'm," Harry paused, and Draco saw pain in his eyes. "I'm writing a letter."

"To who?"

"To a dead man."

* * *

Draco asked Harry about the letter later. The other boy just cocked his head and asked whether Draco was alright.

The pain in his eyes was gone.

Draco, somewhat concerned, and very puzzled, turned around, and walked away, with the idea of toying with Longbottom's new gadget and mocking the Gryffindors.

He forgot about the letter in minutes.

* * *

"I don't have the wrong grip," Draco said stubbornly. He turned to Harry desperately. "Do I?"

Harry didn't answer. His fingers were taut against the broomstick in his fist. It had been so long…

Those days with Sirius, flying in the rain because it was the only time Alius wouldn't want his broom. Begging for a broom from parents who forgot the next day, although Al had twenty different broom models.

So many memories.

Hearing Madam Pince in the background, he let instinct take over, summoning the broom and rising slowly, until he came to a comfortable hover above them. Madam Hooch gave him a nod of approval, but her attention was soon caught by another.

"Come back boy!"

* * *

Neville Longbottom had been a very nervous child. His uncle was forever throwing him out of buildings, or out of cars, or into rivers, without result. Was he a squib? His uncle seemed adamant on proving him wrong. So he was either going to be a bruised wizard, or a dead squib. He didn't like either option, but he felt the need to make his Gran proud. To make his long-dead parents proud.

Malfoy had taken up bullying him. Neville knew he was no genius, but it hurt to be called stupid. He wasn't stupid at Herbology, or History of Magic… but those were the two subjects nobody cared all that much about.

He'd never proved that he was better than a squib, and now, as he fell, he knew he was going to be a Dead Squib. He closed his eyes, and thought loudly in his head, _Sorry, Sorry, Sorry_. And…

He waited for the impact, but there was none. Having waited a moment for the pain to arrive, he opened his eyes. He was floating in the air, uninjured, and most important, Not Dead.

Neville's terrified eyes flew right to the Slithirin/Riddle bloke, who had his wand pointed at him, and his mouth open in surprise. He was approximately at the same height as Neville, though Riddle was on a broom, and he had his head cocked in anxiety.

"Well done, Mr Riddle," he heard Madam Hooch say in the background. He felt himself slowly return to the ground, and he still stared at Riddle, and, more importantly, at his green and silver badge.

Maybe not _all _Slytherins were bad, he concluded, smiling weakly at the other boy.

* * *

"Malfoy, why did you stick me with this?" Harry groaned. "A Wizarding Duel- what were you thinking?"

"Yeah, mate," said Blaise. "You arrogant twit." But he was chuckling.

"Not arrogance," Draco protested. "_Pride._"

"It's the same thing, with him," whispered Blaise to Harry.

"_Hey,_" Draco complained. He rounded on Harry. "You promised to be my second, you spineless excuse of a Slytherin!"

"You weren't actually planning on going, were you?" Harry asked, wryly.

"No," Draco said, indifferent.

"You can't do that," Harry told him. "Or so much for 'pride'."

Draco considered it. "Alright then," he said conceitedly. "We'll beat them anyway. Potter'll never see us coming."

Later that night, they sneaked up to the Trophy room, ears ringing with Blaise's sarcastic, but true, good-wishes. Weasley and Potter had brought the muggleborn.

"Brought your pet, Potter?" Sneered Draco. Firstly exchanging glares, and then bows, they began. After ten minutes Draco, though skilled, was beaten by the boy who had been learning since he had been a toddler. Harry stepped up.

Al threw a silencing spell on him, as he had Draco. The point of using such a spell was to keep him from casting verbal curses. Harry inwardly shrugged. The spell was useless on him.

**_Finite incantum!_**

"**_Misteye Incanti_**," he said, slashing his wand through the air. He smirked in satisfaction at the light green mist hiding him, and the rest of the room.

"**_Video-Per!_**" He cast on the mist, allowing him and him alone to see. He noticed Al, against a silver trophy, blinking, utterly perplexed. The other boy, desperate and confused, hurled a cutting hex in Harry's direction.

Harry dived out of the way of the orange curse, swearing under his breath. "_Bloody idiot_: **_Stup-_**"

"Where's that smoke coming from, Mrs Norris?" He listened. Everyone had frozen.

"**_Finite Incantum_**," he cast, again. He twirled his wand around himself, and then at Draco. "**_Egchamaeleon!_**" He raced over to Draco, who was staring at his hands, which were suddenly _not there_. "Disillusionment Charm," he explained. "It won't last long, _come on_!"

They ran.

"This way," Harry hissed. He dragged Draco by what he believed to be his arm (it could have been his neck, he couldn't be sure), unlocking the closest door and slipping in. Draco promptly began to scream.

* * *

"A three headed dog?" Blaise repeated.

"It was sitting on a door of some sort." Harry said. "I think it must be protecting something."

"Like what?" Draco said tiredly. He had waded through his share of laughs as Blaise listened to how Draco had awoken the mutt with his awful screams.

"It could be anything," Harry said, frustrated. "Its pups, gold, or something more… _interesting._"

"Like what?" Draco said once more, perking up a little.

"I don't know," Harry said. And, then, determinedly, "But I want to find out."

* * *

"Holly, where were you last night?" Meg asked, worriedly. "We couldn't find you anywhere!"

Holly yawned, "I… I'm not sure. I think I fell asleep… somewhere…"

"How'd you get here, then?" Asked Suzie, bouncing excitably on her bed. Holly faintly remembered her rant from the first day- '_So fluffy, fluffy, fluffy! And bouncy-bouncy-bouncy! And fun-fun-fun! And- OW!"_ Tutting, Hufflepuff's head, Professor Sprout, had repaired the bed.

"I… I-I don't know," the awake part of her became consumed with worry. Was she blacking out again? Would the green-eyed boy come back? She stopped. What green-eyed boy? And why did she feel like she was forgetting something…

* * *

Having been at Hogwarts two months now, Harry felt more at home than he ever had anywhere else. But he too felt he was forgetting something… Something very important…

* * *

Harry was distractedly walking around the Dungeons. He hated Halloween. It was a blatant jab at him to remind him of how things _could _have, but didn't, work out in his life.

He was pondering on whether he should go up to the feast, for appearances' sake, or to enjoy the rest of his night and head to the Kitchens or, even better, the room the Elves had suggested- "The Room of Requirement".

"What the-" Harry said, as something at least twelve feet tall, and grey-skinned pushed past him. He stared at it for a moment. "How rude. I should rightly demand an apology," he told himself.

Though knowing he wouldn't get one, he still chose to follow the beast up flights of stairs and through hallways. Sometimes it wouldn't fit through a door, or a hall, and Harry would watch in amusement as it struggled to pull itself out.

"You're a troll, are you not?" Harry said conversationally. "I suppose someone let you in, then. No offense, but your kind aren't known for their intelligence." He thought for a moment. "It couldn't be Snape, he's loyal to Dumbledore's cause. I believe. He doesn't particularly like Dumbledore, or Al, but he fights for their cause for some reason. Eh. I doubt McGonagall, Flitwick, or Sprout would do it, and they're the only ones with the power… but…" He paused, looking up at the Troll who was hitting his head against the wall. "Quirrell's rather suspicious, is he not? And that weird Ancient Runes teacher, Professor Rocks. I've caught Quirrell without his trademark stutter multiple times, too. He could be bitter that P-"

He stopped. And remembered.

Halloween. His mother. His father. Black.

Thank God he hadn't met them yet, in class or out. But Defence Against the Dark Arts would take a turn for the worst in second year, when he actually had his father in class. And in third, his mother.

Quirrell had somehow succeeded in nabbing First Year DADA, as Dumbledore had kindly explained that Potter was too busy to control so many different classes, and so Quirrell could work with the 'firsties',

"I should probably knock you out. Or at least incapacitate you," Harry warned the troll, who stopped whamming its head against Sir Bottomley's portrait.

"Ug." It said intelligently.

"You're right, I don't really want to do that. But imagine the titles- Harry Riddle, Terminator of Trolls, Troll-Trailer, Beast-Bester, Creature-Killer… Oh wait. That has a 'k'."

The troll turned away, clearly uninterested in whatever Harry had to say, and walked further into the halls, closer to the girls' bathroom.

"You are a terribly rude creature-with-a-'c', are you not?" Harry said, catching up quickly enough. The troll squeezed it through the door to the girl's bathroom. Harry locked it. He turned away, triumphant. "Harry Riddle- Troll Trapper. Has a bit of a ring to it, does it not?"

Then he heard the screaming. And the clattering of sinks being destroyed. Trolls just weren't very elegant beasts.

He slowly turned around. "Don't kill her!" He said, after some thought. "**_Alohomora!_**"

He threw three gleaming red knock-out curses after the troll, one after the other, until it collapsed. He looked at the shivering mudblood, curled up under a sink. He then heard voices, coming up the corridor, and he knew he had a whole lot of explaining to do.

* * *

"And you got thirty bloody points?" Blaise asked, mouth hanging open. "How? And didn't they ask _why _you weren't at the feast?"

Harry smirked. "I told them Halloween was the day my parents died."

* * *

They stood in the courtyard, shivering slightly.

"So you can't come to the match?" Draco asked, disappointedly. "Can't you just ask your friend to do that something another day?"

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, disappointed himself. "Tom was pretty clear that it had to be today."

"Well, see you."

"Yeah, bye."

Harry watched them go. He should've been excited- he hadn't seen Tom for a month. But he felt unsure. "What am I forgetting?"

"Pardon, Harry?" Came Tom's voice. It was squeaky and fake- a harsh mimic of Holly's, but it seemed to fool the remaining students in the courtyards.

"Nothing, Tom. What is it that you wanted me for? I was going to see the match with my friends."

Tom grabbed the sleeve of his arm and dragged him down into an empty hall.

"Now, Harry- about these friends of yours." Tom began, and Harry noticed how shark-like the smile he gave was. He shrunk back, unsure.

"Yeah," Harry said, a bit defensively, much to his chagrin. A little voice in his head said to act natural… but, why would he have to act? Surely he could tell the truth to Tom. But part of him yelled that he couldn't.

"What are they_, really_," Tom said, smirking brilliantly.

"My friends."

"We do not have friends, Harry," Tom's eyes blazed. "We have only allies_. _Now,_ what are they_?"

"Friends," he repeated, but his voice quavered. "I am able to have such a thing." _I am humane enough. Unlike you._

"What about Rian, Harry? Was he your friend?"

Harry warily watched Tom's terrible smile. He saw something he hadn't before- Tom's sadistic pleasure in other's pain. Or, more importantly_, his_ pain.

"No. But Draco and Blaise and Tracey _are_."

"They're not," Tom said softly. Harry refused to look at him. Tom put his hand under Harry's chin and pulled his head up to face him. "Friends don't exist to those with power. The weak, they need friends to protect them and feel better about themselves. _We don't_."

"_Please_, Tom," Harry near-pleaded, wide, pained eyes staring into Tom's cold ones.

Tom turned and walked away.

* * *

"I do feel so sorry for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home," Draco Malfoy said during Potion class, one mid-December morning.

Harry turned away, suddenly very uncomfortable.

"Where are you going for Christmas, Harry?"

"I'm staying here," Harry muttered, not facing his friend.

"Oh," Draco truly did sound sorry as he apologized.

"Nah, it's okay," said Harry, still not looking at him._ Friend?_

When Snape dismissed the class, Harry followed Draco to the Hall. In the corner of his eye, there were Ron, Alius, and Hagrid. They seemed deep in conversation. Draco seemed intent on mocking Alius, so Harry used this advantage to go over and see if he could catch any useful information.

* * *

"- How's Fluffy?" Said Ron. His face had gone a bit red, having been very afraid of the large dog before Hagrid explained his job.

"She's good, 'er coat is very shiny after using that shampoo yeh got her, Ron."

Ron went even redder, though he looked very pleased. "Thanks, Hagrid. It was Al's money, though."

"But your idea," Al said to Ron.

"Yeah," Ron said proudly. "Yeah. And it's called the 'Cerberus Cleaning Comb and Shampoo Set', and it's off by ten percent in Dargon Mart if you get there by January fifth."

Hagrid looked very happy with this.

Alius took on some puppy-dog eyes. "Are you ever going to tell us what Fluffy is guarding? Ever since you mentioned Nicholos Flamel we've been trying to figure out who _he_ is."

"Somethin' 'n someone important. 'N not for firs' years." Hagrid said with purpose.

"Come on, Hagrid!"

"I'm sayin' nothin'." Hagrid turned. "Oh, here comes that Malfoy boy. Bit of a blast-ended Skank, tha' one."

* * *

Harry held the gifts to his chests, hugging them tight. What..? How? He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath of contentment.

_I've never got a gift before_…

* * *

He flat-out refused to go to the Christmas Dinner with everyone else. Holidays were ugly reminders of what could have been, and he'd rather not heard Draco drawl on about how beautiful the new broom set his parents go him was.

He first visited the library, but found it closed, as even Madam Pince had gone to celebrate with the rest of the staff. He travelled up the corridor, and through many a dark passageway, and found himself standing before a large silver suit of armour. He backed up through a door on his left, sliding through it.

Within the room were upturned tables and chairs. A disused classroom, long since closed. Propped up against the wall was a magnificent mirror, high and gold, with clawed stands.

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

A riddle? He was not sure. After a few moments of staring from a safe position by the door, he took a few steps closer to the potentially dangerous mirror.

It showed him, staring back, just as a normal mirror would. But mirror Harry smiled, and turned to gesture to the crowds behind him. Mirror Harry had the Potters beaming and waving, posing for photos, standing on either side of him. Blaise and Malfoy stood in front of the Potters, on his left and right, and Tracey was playfully scowling as she ducked under Blaise's arms, trying to get into the shot. Tom was lurking in the back, not in Holly's body, as Holly stood beside him, and he was genuinely smiling. Luna was talking animatedly to what seemed like no one in the background, and mirror Harry's smile widened.

_I show not your face but your heart's desire_.

Mirror Harry was fake. Harry knew that, as mirror Harry didn't have a trail of tears down his cheeks.

_I desire normality; belonging_.

* * *

Harry knew he had been right. The mirror had inspired _hope_. And that was more dangerous than he had ever imagined.

* * *

_Well-known alchemist and only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone, Nicolas Flamel, who created a legendary substance with incredible powers. He was a close friend and partner with Hogwarts School Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. He has been alive six hundred sixty-five years, due to his drinking of the Elixir of Life. His hobbies include opera, alchemy, and spending time with his immortal wife, Perenelle_.

After three weeks of ongoing searching, he had finally found it. The book with the knowledge of what he sought.

He knew what was hidden beneath Hogwarts floors, and he feared to tell Tom.

How would Tom react? The Philosopher's Stone was powerful. It would most likely return Tom to his former glory, and body- disintegrating Holly Black in the process. Of course Tom would go after it.

What was he to do?

And then he had an idea.

* * *

"What are you doing studying, Harry?" Draco laughed.

"The exams aren't for another ten weeks," added Blaise. "Even the professors haven't brought them up."

But Blaise's words were jinxed, and the group discovered how alike Harry and the professors thought, study-wise. In DADA Quirrell hadn't shown up for class. The words '**Page 131; Questions A, B, C. Page 132; Practical Questions part one and two. Page 133, 134, 135, 136, and 137; 'With a Flick of The Wand'- make notes. Page 138 and 139; Questions A-Z. Page 40, take diagram down into parchment library."**

This made Harry even more studious, and suspicious. Quirrell had been skipping meals. His turbans had gotten thicker, and darker. There was something the man was hiding- Harry was sure of it.

"I- can't- breath." Draco complained, hardly able to carry his bag, containing all of his homework. "Quirrell and Binns have gone mad."

"Madder than mad." Said Tracey, coming up behind them. She frowned at Harry's far less heavy bag. "Where's your homework?"

"Finished," Harry said, smiling as her jaw dropped.

"Teach me, Sensei," she muttered, grinning. "Or tell me!"

"Nope," Harry said. "You are not prepared to have my knowledge thrust upon your puny mind."

Tracey wasn't offended in the least at his jest. "Can't say I didn't try," she said, turning around.

_"__Harry, Harry_," Draco mimicked incorrectly. Harry heard Tracey's angered intake of breath.

_"__Astoria, Astoria_," she copied, bounding away.

* * *

_You were on your knees, cupping some red liquid in your hands. Blood, cursed blood. You drank feverishly, stooped over the once mighty creature you had killed (__**Avada Kedavra**__!)._

_"__Bloody hell!" Came a voice. You looked up sharply, hissing slightly. Red-haired and freckled, the boy (a Weasley, most likely) shares a look with his much more interesting friend._

_"__Potter," you croak, smiling through the blood. He backs up, tripping over a root, and falls backwards. His friend squeaks. _

_"__Why, Norbert, why?" The Weasley whimpers under his breath._

_You don't know what he's talking about, and nor do you care. You rise, wobbling slightly, tired, sight-hazy, but you need to reach him… your destroyer. _

_You stand over him now, not moving, just observing. Then you see it- his warm __**brown **__eyes…_

_You groan, if only for a moment, but then, realization hits you. You cackle. They got it wrong… they got it wrong…_

_They are protecting the wrong chosen one._

_You do not fight when the centaur attempts to run you over, leaping out from a tree. You just laugh, amused, and apparate at the last possible second. You have the last laugh. _

_They got it wrong_…

* * *

_"__Cerberuses are large, three headed dogs, known only to be black furred. They have little weaknesses, but the sound of music can lull them to sleep."_

* * *

Harry found himself levitating a sleeping Cerberus away from the trapdoor which it had collapsed upon. Alone he descended in through the trapdoor, and-

* * *

"Where were you last night?" Tom asked, his voice silky yet demanding. Harry wondered how he had never noticed the latter.

"Nowhere," Harry murmured, avoiding Tom's cold eyes.

* * *

"Harry," Holly called, rushing over and tugging at his sleeve, all smiles. "Ms Stubbs is here- come on!" Then she turned around and yelled some goodbyes to her friends, skipping away.

"Bye," Harry said quietly.

"Bye Harry," echoed his friends.

"You should've taken up my offer," Draco said childishly.

"I can't stay with you, Draco. I told you-"

"I know, I know. This Tom fellow you know said to stay in the orphanage."

"He doesn't sound like an awfully nice guy, leaving you there," Tracey sniffed. "From what you've described, it sounds like my shed."

Harry smiled a bit. "It doesn't matter, I'll see you guys in a month or two."

"You'd better write." Draco threatened.

"I'll send Silvertips," offered Blaise. "You can't complain about not having an owl then."

"And I'll send candy!" Tracey said, brightening. "But you owe me, Slithirin/Riddle." She made a face. "Just choose a surname, already."

"I can't," Harry sighed dramatically. "I'm spoiled for choice."

"Harry!" Shouted Ms Stubbs. "Please hurry!"

"Stupid muggle," Draco grumbled, but he sent Harry one of his trademark smirks. "See you," he said, catching his father's eyes in the crowd.

"Bye," said Tracey, following him, with a roll of the eyes.

"Have a good summer," ordered Blaise, disappearing also.

And Harry turned as well, and walked away.

* * *

**Redone 29/10/14  
**

**- KOT.**


	4. The Possibly Dreaded AN

**Hey people! Sorry, this is not an update. I'm sorry for being so slow! School is mad and I'm going through some problems so I've been kind of distracted. I know, I know- ****_excuses, excuses_****. I'll try and update soon. Just 9000 words to go...**

**- KOT.**


End file.
